It was her big green eyes that drew me in at first. She was trembling and folding her body into a compact little bundle, shrinking away from me. Her eyes were huge and round in contrast to the small shape she’d scrunched herself into. I had expected her to be scared – it was an overwhelming situation after all – but I hadn’t expected to be so inexplicably taken with her the way I was.

There were plenty of cute cats at the humane society that day, after all, but there was something about her. She was small (I could picture her curled up in my lap) and her green eyes stood out in a black face bisected by a diagonal white streak. Finally, she had white socks on her back legs, and white paws in the front.

I’ve always been a sucker for black cats with white paws. My grandparents had a rather fabulous one named Kitty that we all referred to as Junior for no apparent reason. His tags said Kitty and he responded to the call “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” But we all called him Junior.

This little cat came with the name Sneakers. I’ve had her for about a month now, and I will admit, I often refer to her more as Sneaky, Sneaks, or Sneaky-pants than Sneakers. Despite her tendency to jump on counters and hide in cabinets (hence the nicknames), she charms me every day.

I’m not going to list all the adorable things she does, because then this post would make me look like a crazy cat lady. Suffice to say, I love my new companion.

Still want a dog, too, though. See? Not a crazy cat lady.