Despite all I've gone through, my cat has always been there for me, pulling me through.

My cat, Cappuccino, is my baby. I love him to death. I love him more than anything else in the world. He's my pumpkin, my pudding, my chocolate chip cookie. He's my precious sweetheart. I love him.

The first time I saw my honey bunch was when I was in sixth grade. It was a clear spring day, I was sitting in the living room, minding my own business, but then I looked outside, and I saw my sister and my dad petting this stragley little orange and white furball.

I thought that was very odd. My dad normally hates cats, espeically strays.

I went outside to investigate. "Meow!" I heard his meek little cry. I looked at him: he was bone thin. But once I started petting him he started purring like there was no tomorrow.

"What's this cat doing here?" I asked my sister Daphne. "Well," she responded, "he looked so starving, and was meowing and mewoing, so Dad had pity and fed him some dog food. But isn't he cute?"

And that was the start of a beautiful relationship.

Orignially, he had to be an outdoor cat -- there was no way my dad would let the cat, whom I had now named Cappuccino in the house. But you know how things go -- it started getting cold and rainy outside so we began letting him in.

I very quickly came to the conclusion that he was a gift from heaven.

Whenever anyone would be lying on the couch, he would jump up, and make himself at home right on her stomach. And he was always demanding to be pet. Once he scurried in he would meow and meow very loudly until someone bent down to pet and scratch him. He was so sweet -- I never met a cat who was so people oriented.

I also came to realize he was an extremely intelligent creature: he grew to understand that when you pat the floor he should come over; when the dog was out and about, he should go to Daphne's room; when it was late at night and everyone else was sleeping, he should come down to my room and curl up right next to me.

I love him so much.

I love him so much sometimes I can't stand it. For instance, sometimes when I'd be sleeping and Cappy would be next to me, I wouldn't want to change positions for fear of disturbing him. Other times, when he was outside and I saw that it was dark and cold, I'd walk barefoot into the yard to find my sweetpea and bring him inside with me. Even at times, when he was being very catish and would meow at the doors of my room, at three in the morning, wanting to go out, I'd peal myself out of bed and let him free. I would do anything for him.

Also, being half indoor, half outdoor, he also gives the neighbors much pleasure. He loves taking walks with peope -- when parents pushing their strollers would be walking down the sidewalk, my baby would walk with them, keeping them company. And he loved to be pet so much, I would see him plop right down in front of walkers, meowing intently for them to stop and place their hands on his soft, soft coat.

I hope my cat lives forever.

I know he must already be at least ten years old, but I so hope he will live another five to ten years. I just love him so much. He's the joy of my life. I'm just as obssessed with him as ever.

Anyway, that cat is a gift from heaven. He's the best animal who ever existed. No matter how bad I'm feeling, no matter how rough my day has been, my preiouse is my precious, who will always inevitably make me feel better.

I love him.