It was spring and my roommate was in love. I was alone in the apartment most days and feeling the strain of too much work and not enough play. So we decided to adopt a cat. I’ve had cats all my life and had spent some time fostering, but it was time for a long term kitty.
I went to the shelter, looking for a short-haired, probably black (since they often have a hard time being adopted), female kitty. As soon as I walked in, my eyes were drawn to a fluffy, handsome, orange boy. Every time I got near him, he locked eyes on me and rubbed up against the bars, every time I moved away, he would yowl as if he was being hurt. I met a few other cats, but I knew from the first moment I saw him: Felix had chosen me.
His previous owner had died. He was one year old, underfed, and with a terrible URI. For the first couple weeks, I didn’t know if he was going to make it. He refused to eat or drink until at last I bribed him with milk and tuna. A few months later he had not only recovered, but become a little monster. He climbed my walls, clawed his way onto my shoulder at every opportunity and licked my toes when I was asleep. In short, I loved him helplessly. I knew he needed a friend. Enter Amelia: Tiny, bossy, with a self-important waddle. From the first day, they were in love with each other. Now I never have a lonely or boring day. My heart and my home are full of laughter and joy.
Pittsburgh, PA
