Growing up on a farm, I have always been surrounded by cats. When I left home for college, leaving my cats was heartbreaking and for years, through numerous roommates and boyfriends with allergies, I impatiently waited until I could find another little honey to call my own.
After almost a decade cat-less, I finally found myself living in an apartment by myself. I began scouring the Animal Humane Society's website, looking for "my" cat. For several weeks, when I thought I had found the one, undoubtedly he would be adopted before I could snatch him up. I began involving my coworkers on my search. One day, as a group of four were gathered around my computer looking at the available cats, everyone simultaneously shouted, "That one!" when a picture of an orange tabby came up. I immediately called the St. Paul location to make sure he was there and available.
After work, I drove to St. Paul, hoping that no one would get to him before I could. When I got to his cage, Pierre was looking right at me, like he was waiting for me all along. I brought him home, prepared for a couple days or even weeks of adjustment time. Instead, it took about five minutes of Pierre walking around my apartment, sniffing out the good spots, before he jumped onto the back of the couch, proudly claiming his spot, and the rest of his adjustment to his new home was just as seamless.
Now, I can't imagine life without him. He meets me at the door every day, meowing and dancing his little butt-wiggle dance, happy to see me come home. He prefers sitting on the back of the couch to my lap and lets me know when he wants some love by biting my ponytail or licking my hair. And remember how before I said I was looking for a "little honey"? Well, instead I found the Largest Cat In The World. He's almost 17 pounds of cat (and the vet said he doesn't need to lose any weight). Pierre is a total lover and reminds me every day how happy I am that I adopted him.