Conversion
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Me and My Cat
By Kelly L. Stone

Are we really sure the purring is coming from the kitty and not from our very own hearts?
~Emme Woodhull-Bäche, translated

I have always been a “dog person.” As far back as I can remember, there were dogs in my house. Not cats, dogs. So when two coworkers found a tiny gray kitten eating out of the Dumpster near our office building and asked me to take him in, I agreed, reluctantly. “Only temporarily,” I proclaimed, “I’m a dog person.” My coworkers nodded their heads knowingly and handed me the warm little bundle.

The kitten was three months old when I brought him home. Weighing in at barely three pounds, he rode peacefully in the passenger seat, atop my gym bag, and waited patiently while I went into Wal-Mart, befuddled in front of the cat items trying to decide what to buy. I knew I would need cat litter and a pan, some cat food, maybe a toy or two. I made my purchases and returned to the car to find his small gray face with green eyes soften at the sight of me. Something inside me shifted a little bit. (Keep reading)