New Beginnings – A Puppy, a Journey, and the Woman I Became.

I saw my puppy starting his life in the early hours of this day. That made me think of my newborn life as a transgender woman and all the blood, sweat and tears and all my struggles to get where I am today. A deeply symbolic way to reflect on my life and identity. This is an article weaving my life as a transgender woman together with the experience of raising my puppy, capturing growth, resilience, and the beauty of new beginnings.

New Beginnings.

A Puppy, a Journey, and the Woman I Became.

In the early hours of this morning, before the world fully stirred, I watched my puppy enter life. Eyes still closed, fur damp, and limbs trembling with the shock of newness, he made his first whimpering breath. As I cradled his tiny body in my hands, warm and pulsing with life, something shifted in me. I saw not just a puppy beginning his journey, but myself as the woman I became, and am still becoming.

Watching him struggle, then rest, and then instinctively seek warmth and connection, I was overcome with the reflection of my own rebirth. This wasn’t just a moment of sentiment. It was a revelation.

I am a transgender woman. And like this puppy, I have had to begin again.

The First Cry: My Own Awakening

There’s something about the rawness of a newborn creature that strips away all pretence. There is no shame in its cry, no self-consciousness in its need. That was once me too, but although my first cry as a woman was not greeted with celebration, but rather confusion, pain, and loss. My transition wasn’t marked by a single moment, but many small ones and each one a shedding of fear, an embrace of truth.

Coming out was not the glamorous transformation the world sometimes paints it to be. It was terrifying. I lost people, friends and family and most of all, I lost safety. I lost the familiarity of the world I once inhabited, a world where I was expected to live a lie. But in that darkness, I found the smallest ember of something real.

I remember the moment I first said my name, “Catherine Anne Vos,” out loud. Like my puppy’s first sounds, it was shaky and soft, but it was mine. The act of naming myself was powerful. I was no longer just surviving; I was claiming my existence.

Learning to Walk: The Early Struggles

My puppy’s first steps reminded me of my own. Not literal steps, but the tentative, unsteady movements of learning how to be in the world only as my true self.

The early days of transition felt like learning how to walk all over again. Navigating a society that constantly demanded I explain myself, justifying my identity, or tolerate being misunderstood or erased. I faced the world with fresh vulnerability. Every misgendering, every moment of rejection or invisibility, felt like falling into the abyss.

But like my puppy, who stumbled, got up, and stumbled again, I persisted. I discovered a resilience I didn’t know I had. I leaned on support groups, late-night messages to friends who understood, and quiet rituals that reminded me of who I was becoming. Every time I fell, I rose with more conviction.

There was blood, sweat, and tears, yes, quite literally. The pain of hormone therapy and the surgeries, the exhaustion of fighting for recognition, and the tears of both grief and joy. But in all of it, I was growing. Just like my little companion, who now follows me around the house, curious and courageous in equal measure.

Trust and Belonging: The Heart of Healing

One of the most beautiful things about raising a puppy is witnessing the development of trust. He didn’t know me at first. He only knew touch, warmth, and voice. Over time, he learned that I was his safe place.

As a transgender woman, trust has been both my wound and my salvation. Learning to trust again in people, in systems, in myself has been a long process. Society has taught many of us that being different means being alone, that to be transgender is to be excluded from belonging.

But my journey has shown me otherwise. Slowly, I found a chosen family of people who loved me not despite who I am but because of who I am. My puppy does not ask questions about my gender. He responds to my care, my laughter, my scent, and my presence. That kind of unconditional acceptance is rare and precious. In many ways, he’s become a mirror for the love I’ve learned to give myself.

Through him, I am reminded that vulnerability is not weakness. It is the foundation of connection.

Growing into Myself: Strength in Every Hair

As the weeks go by, my puppy’s fur thickens, his muscles strengthen, and his eyes open wide to the world. He is discovering who he is. And so am I.

Transition is not just physical. It is deeply emotional, psychological, and spiritual. It has meant deconstructing years of internalised shame, embracing my history, even the parts that hurt, and integrating my past with my present.

It took me nearly five decades to stand in the truth of who I am. As a migrant from South Africa, a mechanic for over 45 years, and a parent who once carried the name Hendrik Benjamin, I have worn many layers of identity. But now, I walk as Catherine. Not just in name, but in spirit.

Watching my puppy grow into his paws sometimes looking too big for his tiny body and it reminds me of the awkward, beautiful process of becoming who I am. There were moments in my transition when I felt like I didn’t quite fit anywhere. But now I understand growth doesn’t always look graceful. Sometimes it looks like tripping over your own feet or struggling to find your voice. But it is still growth.

Night Watches and Morning Light

Caring for a puppy involves sleepless nights, unexpected messes, and constant vigilance. In those quiet, dark hours, when I hold him close to calm his trembling body, I remember the times I held myself through panic attacks, loneliness, or grief. I remember the woman I was when I first dared to hope for something more.

I also remember the people I’ve lost. Not just to transphobia, but also to suicide and silence. As someone deeply involved in suicide prevention, especially within the transgender and gender-diverse communities in Aotearoa, I carry these stories with me. I carry their memory like a soft blanket over my shoulders.

My puppy’s heartbeat against my chest is a reminder that we are still here. I am still here. And that is all that matters.

A Shared Future: Hope With Four Paws

My puppy will grow older, stronger, and more confident. He will learn his place in the world, just as I continue to learn mine. But we are walking this path together, two souls born into new lives, bonded by timing and truth.

He doesn’t know my past. He doesn’t need to. What he knows is my love. And what I’ve learned, through him, is to love the present moment, not despite its imperfections, but because of them.

When he plays, I laugh. When he curls beside me, I rest. When he runs towards me, I feel chosen.

Becoming and Belonging

They say that having a pet teaches you more about yourself than what you expect. For me, it has revealed just how much I’ve grown. It has shown me how far I’ve come from the days of hiding, of fear, of a fragmented identity. It has also revealed how connected I am with my will to live, to love, and to the broader fight for inclusion, safety, and visibility for transgender people.

I see myself in the way my puppy explores the world. Tentative and then bold. In the way he leans into kindness. In his curiosity and courage. We are not so different.

Every time he wags his tail when he sees me, it feels like a celebration. And I think, maybe this is what being seen feels like.

The Power of New Life

To live a life that is true to yourself is an act of rebellion. To find joy after years of struggle is an act of healing. To love, and be loved, in the small details of daily life, like a warm tongue on your hand, a soft paw on your lap, is an act of hope.

In my puppy’s birth, I found my own rebirth. In his growth, I see mine. And as we walk into the future together, I hold on to one truth above all else: every beginning, no matter how small or fragile, contains the power of transformation.

I am not who I was. I am becoming. And I am loved: fur, flaws, and all.

This is my journey with a tiny furball for the third time, and each one as precious as the other.