And you leave no doubt whatsoever about who “owns” whom. I could say the same about my darling Nibbles.

My “unwanted” little boy kitty, turned up in the neighbors garage one Saturday the summer before my senior year in high school. He was roughly 10 weeks old and nobody knew who he belonged to. The neighbors were going to just call the pound the following Monday if he was still around.

I couldn’t stand the idea that he’d be alone in the world for a day and a half so I scooped him up (he had been afraid of everyone that had encountered him all day, but he came right up to me when I showed up) and took him in the house. I explained the situation to my mother and said, “I know we can’t keep him, but I can’t stand the idea of leaving him out there. We’ll call the pound on Monday.” She raised her right eye brow and gave me “the look” and said, “OK. But you have to take care of him”, before proceeding to take him out of my arms and give him a flea bath and feed him.

Seventeen years later, he’s still with me and nearing what I know is the end of his life. It breaks my heart and I’m trying to make the most of the time we have left. Your story inspires me, though, to think maybe adopting another kitty (or two?) might be just the right thing when the time comes, after all.

Curiosity got the better of me and so I ignored your warning at the beginning, even though it was very much applicable to me (sorry, I’m a dog girl.) But I am so glad I did. I really enjoyed your tale of Simbakitty and how he worked his way into your arms, your home, your heart and your bed. It was very heartwarming, even for this catophobe. Our little furry friends are one of God’s greatest gifts to us, I am convinced. Thank you for this lovely reminder. Thank you too for your question at the end which has also given me reason for pause (ha ha, I made a funny!) Something to think about indeed.