I have wanted a cat of my own for years. My family has always had cats, but they were never properly mine, you know? And when I moved into student halls I faced my first catless years. It was horrendous. I’d taken for granted the puke on your pillow, the constant stench of kitty litter, the ‘playful’ bat to the nose.
Third year of university, and I finally moved out of halls. This meant only one thing to me: I could get a cat. Sure, I didn’t actually ask my landlord, but my uncle was his handyman and had assured me it would be fine.
So, to the internet I went (with my more experienced cat-buyer mum.) Within days, I’d found The One. A beautiful three year old, blue colour pointed Ragdoll, who was retiring from breeding and looking for a furever home. It was love at first sight.
My mum contacted her owner, who on paper said I was the perfect candidate but she wanted to meet me and see if Roxy likes me first. It’ll sound pathetic, but I was nervous the whole drive down. I’d joked to my mum that I should line my pockets with catnip, but didn’t want to end up with a whole lap of cats.
My nerves were still there when I sat down, waiting for her to bring Roxy in. And then there she was. And she came running over, and jumped into my lap.
| The day we met.
All she wanted was explore. All I wanted was a photo.
Three years later, I still couldn’t be happier that I found such a good furry friend. People say that cats are uncaring and aloof, but that’s never been the case with me and Roxy. We both fell in love at first sight.
Roxy is more than a pet to me; she’s a best friend, a confidante, a therapist (which I’ll talk about more later.)
|Our most recent selfie – ever the poser
This whole post may sound sappy, but we really did pick each other, and she makes me happy everyday.