It was when I was eleven years old that I first got to spend time with a cat. I was at a friend’s place to hang out and was informed that he had a pet. Years of watching television and the media told me that these furry beasts were the cutest things I’d laid my eyes on, and so I embarked throughout my friend’s house to find it. When I finally found it, it was everything I’d imagined. I spent more time playing with the cat that day than with my friend, and observed where it was at any given time. It was at that moment that I fell in love with cats. Every time I saw one, I would go out of my way to start playing with it, and I started begging my parents for a cat. Initially, they said no, and who could blame them? Cats were a great responsibility akin to taking care of a child. Cats live their own lives, needing attention and care. A year of pestering, however, got me the result I wanted - we went to the Toronto Humane Society to look for a cat in March of 2013. We had decided on the week of March break; my parents would be at work but I would be alone in the house, so there wouldn’t be any times when the cat was alone initially. When we first reached the Humane Society, my eyes lit up as six of seven cats were in a large, dimly lit playroom, relaxing. I immediately started playing with them, petting and allowing them to get comfortable around me. I had never seen so many cats all at once, all minding their own business. At that very moment, I saw paradise. We were later
