Let me just start by saying, I am more of a dog person than a cat person. My family has always owned dogs ever since I was born. In my opinion, they're Gods gift to us. I was always one of those people who never had an appreciation for cats until my family adopted two kittens a few years ago. It changed my whole perception, and I love them with all of my heart.

When my sophomore year came to a close, I decided I wanted to live alone. My two best friends, who were older than me, had done so and loved it. When I was signing for the apartment, I saw a questions asking me if I anticipated owning a pet. Immediately my mind raced, I WANT TO ADOPT A PET.

For the rest of the summer, I tried to convince my parents to let me get a cat. I begged and begged to the point where they would sometimes get angry at my persistence. I wanted to get a cat because they were so much easier to care for. A dog needs walks and much more attention, and I did not want to buy a dog and not give it the life it so rightfully deserved. By the end of the summer, my parents were still very much on the fence. However, when we arrived in Texas for move-in, I finally won them over.

About a week after living in my apartment, I decided to go to the animal shelter. I did not want to buy a cat that I did not feel a connection with. In other words, I did not want to force it and buy a cat just because I wanted a cat. The first animal shelter I went to was one that I frequently visited to play and pet the animals. It was a release for me and it always put a smile on my face; I knew it made the animals happy too. Sadly, I did not find my cat.

I decided to go home. Maybe today is not the day I am supposed to get a cat. Upon arriving at home, I started working on an essay. When that was done I thought, why don't I visit another shelter.

When I arrived at the next shelter, I was surprised by the enormous amount of cats they had. I went to a volunteer and described the type of cat I would love to adopt; I wanted a cat who was affectionate and sweet, preferably not a kitten. She escorted me to a room with three cats. She told me the calico named Sweet Pea fit my description perfectly.

Once I entered the room, Sweet Pea came up to me and rubbed against my legs; she was adorable but after a few seconds of rubbing against my legs she went back to her bed to resume her nap. All of a sudden, an orange tabby awoke from his slumber and ran right up to me. He immediately started nuzzling my legs and purring. I stayed in the room with him for another ten minutes to see if this was my cat. I knew he was one the one when he laid down on my legs. I didn't want to get up. I eventually stood up and went to talk to the volunteers. I decided to see a few more cats so I could make sure my connection with the orange tabby wasn't just a figment of my imagination. Turns out we were meant for one another.

I later found out my tabby was eight years old and had been given up in June. When I signed the adoption papers, all the volunteers thanked me for adopting an older cat. They said it rarely happened.

I have now had my cat, Sonny, for a little over a month, and he is the best cat I could have asked for. He follows me around everywhere and always needs to be near me. When I leave the room, he has to follow. I feel so blessed he is mine, and I am happy I was lucky enough to save him. For some reason, I just had a feeling he was the one, and I think he knew too.