She came to me one morning. Her short, silky, black hair was wondrous to touch.
She woke me with a touch, sitting beside me. Her eyes were rivers of fluid gold, observing me, waiting for me.
I smiled. My first female companion of the day was one I adored more than any other of her kind, more than I do most people.
I greeted her sleepily, feeling her warm body relax fractionally.
She was my angel, my point of gravity, my all. She opened her mouth, obviously hungry.
“Fine, I’ll go open you a can,” I said to this wondrous cat.