Sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder if I am as good as other cats. My early months were rough. I came from feral cat genes and don’t have any of that fancy breeding. I often wonder why I look different than all the cats I have ever seen. I heard my human say once that she thought about getting a Bengal cat, but they cost too much. I know what she paid for me, but it was probably not even enough to cover the medical stuff they did to me. Makes me wonder if I am worth much.

When I sit in the window, I see cats that are allowed to run free. There is this cat that lives next door called Mario. Sometimes his human lets him out so he can strut around in the sunshine. He is a tuxedo like me, but he is a lot bigger and has a lot more white than I do. I wonder if that makes him better looking than me? How do humans decide what is good looking and what is not?

Last summer I saw a huge golden tiger-striped cat across the street. He was all flopped out on the cement and looked like a big pile of gold. I was so jealous when I saw him. He looked a lot like that cat on the talking screen called Puss ‘n Boots. I remember when I was at Noah’s, a homeless pet shelter, the gold ones and the white ones were always picked first. The black cats and tuxedos like me were ignored by most of the humans who came for cats. Thank goodness my human wanted more than looks in a cat. I am not sure why she picked me, maybe because I stared at her and kept talking when she tried to look at other cats. Whatever it was, it worked. After four months in that place, I would have done somersaults to get out.

Sometimes my human calls me ‘Pretty Girl’, but I think she might be trying to make me feel better about myself. I know when I convinced her to take me home, she didn’t know I had a kink at the end of my tail where it was broken when I was little. Thank goodness she didn’t take me back. I know she thought about it. I was still pretty wild when she got me, but I have adjusted some. I have learned how far I can push it before I get yelled at.

Guess what? I found out my human has a litter of her own. Her oldest came to my house to see us. She talked about her two cats like they were something special. She said her ‘Missy’ is a rag doll. The way she bragged makes me think that rag dolls must be better than tuxedos. I bet that rag doll, ‘Missy’, would never have survived out in the wild like I did. Besides, looks aren’t everything, are they?.

I know that cat in the mirror has one thing going for her - personality! No one ever gets bored when I am around. You might even call me a cat clown. I preform so much when my human has company that she sometimes threatens to put me in time out. A couple of times she did it too, and I was stuck in a room by myself for what felt like forever.

I often think about my situation. One thing I could do is to ignore the mirrors and spend more time thinking about how lucky I am. I have a home, good food, a cat tree to hang from, cupboards to open, red dots to chase, and a few phony mice to throw around. I also know my human loves me because she told me so, and she even shares her pillow with me. Maybe I better use my lives this time around to build up some good karma, and then maybe I will come back as a Bengal or a rag doll next time, or not.   Rosey