This is Snyper:

Snyper first found me during one of the darkest times of my life. My Dad had passed away from lung cancer, my partner had left me due to discovering she was a lesbian, my mentally ill Mom now depended on me for emotional support, and I developed a pretty bad drinking problem. I was living in a shared house with a few wayward men who had gone through difficult times themselves, and one of my housemates told me that his father had just had a debilitating stroke and so the man's cat would be coming to live with us.

When I was growing up, my family had many cats come to spend their lives with us. I loved them all like family, and there were many times of my early life that they were my only friends. I adore cats. Despite this, I was less than enthused about this situation. My housemate had many substance abuse problems, was frequently in and out of jail, and could often be found around the house passed out in various states of undress. He had previously been a pharmacist but had lost control of his life and received almost no support from his family. I was not interested in having him be responsible for an animal that would no doubt create noise and chaos while I was trying to wallow in my own self-pity, but he assured me that I would never hear from her, that he would keep her in his room in the attic.

It was before dawn in late March, just a couple days before my birthday, when I was awoken to her meowing loudly outside the main bedrooms on the second floor. I was ready to fight my housemate, ready to fling my door open and banish this creature back to the room they belonged in. But when I pulled open my door I was greeted with the friendliest, happiest, one-eyed tortoise-shell cat I could ever imagine. My heart instantly melted and I sat on the floor right in my doorway playing with her. I looked at her collar and saw the name "Snyper" and laughed. Before long, she was asleep in my lap and stayed in my room for the rest of the day.

This caused me even more distress. To let something so precious into my heart knowing I'd have to give her up to her actual owners. I knew I was inviting heartache back in by daring to love anything again. But she was barely a year old, scared and wanting comfort and I couldn't help but need to give it to her. I made a selfish wish then and there and wish it had come true in another way.

My housemate was not a cat person. He had not grown up with cats, did not know how to take care of them, and did not feel the same softness for them that I did. Keeping the cat was a burden for him, and the reality of his father's declining health on top of the regular hostilities of life led to him indulging in old habits, and he was huffing and drinking again by the end of the day. She came to my door asking for food and access to her litterbox, but he had locked himself in and passed out. So I went across the street and bought her some basics.

When my housemate came to, he announced that he would likely be ridding himself of the cat, saying "she was born in an alley, she might as well die there" he told me. He declared "I don't know how to take care of myself let alone something else" which I had said about myself many many times. However, with no hesitation I replied that I would take care of her. He didn't say thank you, he just returned to his drinking.

The next day, he was arrested for violating his parole and I received all of Snyper's things, which consisted of a litter box and two plastic bowls. However, being as how the cat's presence was a deal with my housemate and the landlord, the landlord was unfriendly to her staying, and the other men in the house were not happy with her presence, even when she only stayed in my room. However, I was about at the end of my desire to stay in the easiest place I could find and afford, and soon enough found a place where she and I could be much happier.

Soon after that, my ex got her surgery to fix her eye, which was the result of hair growing on the inside of her eyelid and was relatively simple to correct. She was already a happy cat, but somehow became even happier.

I guess somewhere along the way I started feeling happier, too.

These days she spends her time running up and down through our new house, leering hungrily at a family of rabbits out back, cuddling guests, and being "the most spoiled cat" in the words of my ex.

I guess I could stand to reward her less often when she knocks my stuff off of the table when I don't pay attention to her for five seconds.

Eh, I enjoy spoiling her too much anyway.