I used to be afraid of cats. My parents bordered on animal-phobic, so we never had a pet when I was young.
I promised my daughter when she was little that we would get a pet when we bought our home.
Coworkers urged me to get a cat instead of a dog, because cats are so much easier. With Jim's help, Alison and I chose our first cat from a rescue home, and my daughter named her Kitty.
Kitty was affectionate and gentle, but sadly she died a few years later from diabetes.
Our next cat, Marley, came into our lives from a friend's mom who had him rescued from a tree. Jim came home from work one night and found Marley lying at the doorstep, presumably napping. Except Marley had mysteriously died. Jim said he looked peaceful.
We next adopted Emma from the pound. She has striking blue-green eyes and is timid, never thrilled about being touched. Not long after, Henry, a furry black stray cat with light green eyes and a clueless look on his face, simply showed up on Jim's doorstep. We lived at Jim's at the time, and when I returned home to live, I couldn't bring myself to break up Henry and Emma.
Nowadays, living alone, I have Grace Kelly, who was lovingly rescued at 3 weeks by Jim's daughter, Amber.
Grace crawls onto my chest, lays down facing me, and lets me scratch behind her ears. She closes her eyes, purrs in my face, and tickles me with her whiskers.
Sometimes Grace extends her paws and tucks them under my neck. It always reminds me of the vision of Superman, flying through the air with his arms straight out.
Grace Kelly is my Supercat. She rescues me time and again, never failing to lift me back into the present, and put a smile on my face.