I love my cat, Shadow. I call her “mine”, but I really belong to her. Although she is black, she is named Shadow because she follows me everywhere. Here is her portrait done in the simple little program Microsoft Paint:
The story goes like this: When I used to live on my own (before getting married, etc.), I lived in a small, but nice, apartment. One night, after work, I decided to get the trash out. I gathered it up and opened the door to take it out to the bin. In walked a scrawny, very vocal, black cat. She just waltzed into the living room and looked up at me saying, “Hey, what’s for supper?” I laughed, took out the trash, and tried to figure out what to name her (which took a while because I believe in asking the animal’s permission for their name).
The next day, I called the Veterinarian and had the works set up for her. I also achieved the goal in finding out her name. She was mine.. er. I was hers now. Ever since then, she is the staple in my life. The strange thing is.. I’ve always attracted cats in this manner, and more recently.. black ones. But more on that later.