How a custom paper cut became a tribute to a beloved companion
As a paper cut artist, I’m often entrusted with the most tender fragments of people’s lives — a silhouette, a memory, a face they can’t see anymore. But some stories stay with me long after the final cut is made. This is one of them.
A few months ago, I received a message from a woman named Emma, asking if I could create a custom paper cut of her and her cat, Luna. She didn’t want a face-forward portrait. Instead, she sent me a quiet photo taken from behind: she was standing by a window.
That was Luna’s favorite place. “She always climbed up there,” Emma told me, “especially when I was cooking or talking on the phone. Like she wanted to be part of everything.”
It wasn’t just a pet’s behavior. It was a love language. A closeness so natural it didn’t need explanation. And now, it was a space that felt painfully empty.
Luna had passed away just a few weeks before Emma reached out to me. She had been with her for 11 years — through her first job, a painful breakup, a cross-country move, even the quiet loneliness of lockdown. “She was always just… there,” Emma said. “Especially on my shoulder. I think she thought she was part parrot.”
Emma didn’t want a big, dramatic tribute. She just wanted that one moment — Luna where she belonged. So I started sketching the silhouette from her photo, then carefully transferred it onto heavy black paper. Instead of scissors, I used my precision craft knife to carve every curve and line by hand. The tip of Luna’s tail, the tilt of Emma’s head, the soft fall of her hair — I carved it all in silence, imagining the weight of that cat, the way her paws must have warmed Emma’s skin.
I’ve made many pet silhouette portraits, but this one felt different. There was something about the pose — intimate but unposed, ordinary but deeply meaningful. It was not just about what Luna looked like. It was about what she felt like.
When I finished the piece, I packaged it with care and mailed it to Emma. A few days later, I received a message from her.
“I cried when I opened it. It’s exactly how I remember her — not just the shape of her body, but the way it felt to have her there. I hung it by the kitchen window. It’s where we stood in that photo. I still reach for her sometimes.”
Reading her words reminded me why I do this.
Paper is fragile — but it can hold so much. Love, grief, memory. A silhouette can say what words cannot. These custom pet paper cuts aren’t just art pieces. They’re quiet memorials. They’re a way to keep a beloved pet’s presence alive, not just in sight, but in soul.
Emma’s story isn’t rare. I’ve worked with people who lost their dogs, cats, rabbits, even a pair of pet ducks. They all wanted the same thing — not just to see their pet again, but to feel them again. To honor them.
Luna will never climb back onto Emma’s shoulder. But now, that moment lives on — carved in paper, framed in love, and gently glowing in the light of that kitchen window.
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