About five years ago I got my first place and thought it was the best thing ever. Then I started feeling depressed and lonely. My sister called from Florida and said the cats on her school's farm had just had kittens and asked if I wanted one before they were taken to the local shelter. I told her yes and set about to making travel arrangements. Five months and a 10 hour drive later, I was holding a little hyper-active ball of black fuzz that wouldn't stop chewing on my thumb.
Five years later and Loki is still a hyper as can be, usually seen zipping up and down the stairs or coming out of cupboards from under furniture like a little bug. He's an attention hog and if no one acknowledges him, he uses the bell on his collar to call attention to himself. He's been nothing but a bunch of laughs and I don't know what I'd have done without him.