Let's get one thing straight right now. I'm allergic to cats, I get wheezy and everything. That's what makes my adventure so utterly ridiculous and ironic. But I do like them, its just if I hug them too close I get sick so I try not to do that.

I've had an assortment of kinds of animals in my life and all of them well didn't exactly turn out well. The first that I can remember were my fish, which died in less than a week. My second was when we moved to a farm-like residence where my dad decided to raise sheep, tons of sheep. My favorite one which I remember naming Snowflake was simply adorable, all white the cleanest of all of them regardless of the smell. But then one day the ram had to but over the barrel of grain and Snowflake just had to eat practically the whole barrel. Sadly, and believe me I balled when I found out what happened, even when my dad could call the vet there was nothing he could do for her and so my dad buried her. Our chickens, oh our poor chickens, if the foxes didn't get them the snakes would. Our first chick ever born at our place, it was absolutely adorable all black and fluffy, was nowhere to be seen the next morning and guess what was in the chicken coop, a gopher snake. I stepped on a king snake once to, barefoot. Our muscove ducks, not really ducks were adorable, and I killed most of them boy was my dad mad, never seen him so mad before. I didn't mean to kill them I was just a stupid kid. We had a large barrel in the ground that we'd fill up with water and my dad said always to keep it filled to the top. That was my job, plus feeding them, and I failed in failing it just once. But once was all it takes. You see these ducks don't have that oily substance on there wings like others do, so the drowned when they couldn't get out. I did cry. I'm not a cold, heartless beast like you might presume after all this; its just I wasn't very responsible even for myself. When I was eight I got a horse, which ended up being given to our neighbor when we moved. When I was fifteen I got a cute little puppy for $20, it was a runt and an odd mix (Chihuahua/Golden Retriever). But it was absolutely adorable and incredibly smart, she trained herself that's how smart she was (to the point that once she did it in the living room but then my dad saw her trotting outside with something in her mouth…yep you guessed it she was getting rid of the evidence). She died about 6 months after getting her, my parents thought she ate Anti-Freeze from a car and it poisoned her. And I was right there when she died. Little idea why I'm frightened of dead things.

Now, you are probably wondering why in the world I've told you all this when you are pretty sure it has nothing to do with the story. But it does. You see if I believed in bad luck, I'd say I had bad luck with any living thing that didn't walk on two feet. And even there I had problems with.

But that all changed the day my dad found a certain cat, with a bejeweled collar around its neck but no sign of a phone number anywhere. You would think it would be pretty easy to find the owner but you are wrong. And you would think that my parents would have given the responsibility of taking care of the cat to my little brother since I was allergic and my past history with animals. But you would be wrong.

But if you thought the cat would be well behaved, that's where you would be dead wrong. And when I did find out whom the cat did belong to, it was no wonder but that's further on with the story, you'll find out soon enough though.