I volunteer at my local animal shelter. I was adamant about not bringing home another cat. I already had two perfect cats. I was sitting in the kitten room when a little black cat crawled out from under a cage and started rubbing on me. I pet him for quite a while but didn't think much of it. Later that day I asked a veteran volunteer who the black kitten was. She had no idea. She had never seen him before. I asked a staff member who he was and she said his name was Clint, but he was always hiding so she didn't know about him except that he was seven months old and he'd been there since he was a baby. I was surprised that the full-time volunteer didn't even know he existed. The following week I was back in the kitten room petting a kitten on a cat tower. Suddenly Clint came out from under the cage again. He walked right over to me, jumped on the cat tower and purred. I started petting him and before I knew it an hour had passed. The shelter was closing so I had to leave. Later that night I told my husband about him. He had always wanted a black cat, but I told him I didn't want another cat. Over the next few weeks I learned that no volunteers or staff knew him. He only came out for me. I was starting to get hooked. My husband convinced me to take him into the shelter to meet him, so we went into the shelter. Clint was gone. I was disappointed but happy for him to have found a home. When I went back for my shift I found out he was sick in quarantine. For six weeks every time I went in he was still sick. I was heart broken. Then on week seven he was there. He ran straight over to me and started rubbing on my legs and meowing, like he was waiting for me. I took him home that day. He never leaves my side.