I always thought I was a cat person.
I mean, I’ve had a pet cat pretty much my entire life. I can remember when I was in kindergarten a stray cat had kittens under our trailer and we took them in. We named the momma Robin because she was dark with a red belly like the bird. When my parents were going through a divorce, I became super attached to our black cat, Figaro. He was so fat his belly rubbed on the floor when he walked. He didn’t do much but he was intuitive and would always come snuggle when I wasn’t feeling well. I was giving him a bath when he had a heartattack. Then, after a nasty fight with my dad he tried to reconcile by adopting another black cat named Shaft. He quickly became “my cat” and even slept on my head at night. Continue reading