I am a seeker of stability. Or perhaps stagnation. Sometimes it's hard to tell. Sometimes one becomes the other. Ultimately I am a creature of comfort, and for me comfort isn't having to worry about the world constantly changing.

But that's at least a little naive, right? My Dad used to say "change is the only constant" and I haven't seen much to dispute that.

I haven't gotten to keep a lot of things in my life, my situation seems to always be in flux more than most other folks I know. Mental illness only accounts for some of it, the rest makes me feel like a cosmic plaything.

Four years ago today, I was existing in some stagnation when a sudden change forced its way into my life and put me onto another path once more.

This wonderful little cat adopted me as their caretaker on a cold Wednesday morning while I was hungover and feeling sorry for myself, which was the familiar misery I had allowed my pursuit of comfort to bring me to. I was ready to cast this cat out for disturbing me, but she was simply the most wonderful cat I'd ever met and even though she didn't have a lot of good choices, she picked me and made her nest between my feet.

To be very honest, her being around caused me a lot of upset. I'd spent the last eighteen months drinking myself to death and finding ways to live as lazily as possible. I'd given up on making a good life for myself and instead just drifted along on a path of self pity and petty hatred.

But suddenly having this wonderful little creature come into my life and be dependent on me changed my priorities quite quickly. I suddenly had her to worry about and I wanted to build a better life for her.

It led to me finding a new place to live, with lots of space and windows for her to stalk the local wildlife. It led to me quitting drinking and getting myself together. It led to me making more friends.

It's true the universe doesn't just let things lie, and even though I was satisfied with laying around dying slowly, it's not what the universe had in mind.

Every morning when I wake up she comes over to softly paw my face until I skritch her face and scrunch her ears and then run the sink water for her for a bit. I tell her I have to go to work and she objects but I toss some of her toys up the stairs for her to chase and I tell her I'll be back.

I used to hate saying or even thinking things like that. Things like what, you must be asking. Things like "I'll be back." A combination of pedantry, cynicism, and anxiety always led me to avoid predictions of the future, even small mundane inevitable ones like coming home from work at the end of the day.

But I wanted Snyper to know I'd be back. So I'd tell her, ignoring my fairly irrational fear that me speaking such a thing would somehow nullify it. She helped me confront a lot of little terrors I carried for a while, because she needed me to.

So I'm here in my server room on what I call her birthday. She's about five years old now, and still very much a kitten always chasing her beloved laser pointer and running up and down the stairs. Craving her liquid snacks and sleeping between my knees every night.

There's something really wonderful about being the safest place for her to sleep at night. How she comes over and circles around and makes her little nest without fail.

I sometimes think about how she wasn't even supposed to be mine. I think about how she couldn't coax my housemate out of his alcoholic stupor, how he was left nonplussed at best and careless at worst in this cat coming into his life. How when it came to being loved by this creature, he couldn't find it in himself to have any of it.

I've been around cats most of my life. Growing up I had 4 cats at any given time, and they were all cherished friends of mine. I like to think I am good with cats, but when I claimed to be a cat whisperer I was corrected by my closest friends that Snyper is actually a human whisperer and I am merely the human she whispered. I'm happy to accept it.

Either way, she's the best. And my home is littered with cat toys while I consider additional ways to spoil her.

I think I'll try and get her a special treat on my way home today.