She said she saw my picture in the newspaper.  It 
wasn't a very good picture:  someone was holding my head at 
a terrible angle instead of my best 3/4 profile, and I 
wasn't happy about the entire procedure.  But something in 
my expression must have touched her, because she came to the 
shelter to see me.
        She thought she wanted a kitten, but came to the cat 
room first.  I was incarcerated with four or five other cats 
in a cage on the floor.  We had enough to eat, but the cat 
box was always full and there weren't enough rugs or 
blankets to sit on.  My feet were cold.  It was better than 
wandering around the streets of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, 
though.  I was the only black cat in the room at the time, 
and I tried to make my appearance more intriguing than my 
cellmates.  That really wasn't difficult:  I'm a petite 
creature with big gold eyes, tiny paws, attentive ears, and 
thick medium-length fur that sticks straight out.  My coat 
makes me look twice as large as I am, so I fastidiously 
watch my figure.  I often sat erect in the cage with my tail 
wrapped around my ankles and my eyes closed, creating a 
mystical and very individual atmosphere. 
        The people at the Lakeland Animal Shelter called me 
"Tabitha", not a name I favored.  It just doesn't 
suit a princess.  When Janet found me, she was immediately 
attracted.  I could see that.  After looking at her through 
the cage bars and meowing faintly, I closed my eyes and 
hoped.  Janet went around to all the other cells and found 
only one other cat she fancied, a longhaired buff adult 
female Siamese mix with sable points.  Janet played with her 
while I tried to wait.  Patience has never been one of my 
virtues, but I'm good at perseverance.
        Then Janet came over to my cage and lifted me out.  I 
admit I'm prone to emotional demonstrations every once in 
awhile.  I looked deep into her eyes, put one paw on either 
shoulder, smiled, and touched the tip of her nose with mine.  
        "I can't give you a lot of space, but there will 
always be plenty to eat, good care, and lots of love," 
she said in my ear.  That's all I ever wanted, all I ever 
needed.  Being a princess means doing elegant things with 
the little you've got.
        There was some difficulty, however.  Janet hadn't 
realized that the shelter bans the adoption of black cats 
during the month of October, just because some people get 
peculiar ideas regarding the treatment of dark-hued animals 
around Halloween.  It was the end of September.  She had to 
persuade some shelter people of her veracity.  But they 
finally allowed her to sign the adoption papers for both me 
and the other cat.  
        Janet came back every few days with special treats and 
toys.  The other cat didn't respond very well, but I gave 
Janet my full attention, especially when they put a sign 
that said "Adoption in Progress" over the details 
about me on the side of the cage.  Then we had to wait, in 
my opinion far too long.  Especially after I started feeling 
odd.
        There was a good reason the buff Siamese-mix hadn't 
responded to Janet.  She was very sick.  Janet told the 
staff vet about her condition.  The next time she came to 
visit, the buff cat wasn't there.  Janet went out and came 
back after some time, very upset.  She took me out of the 
cage and cuddled me, her face buried in my fur.  "She 
died, and they didn't even tell me."  Holding me up, 
she looked into my eyes.  "I hope that doesn't happen 
with you."  I was sick, and getting sicker, but I 
didn't dare let her know that.  I wanted nothing to 
interfere with my adoption.
        Janet told me she'd invented a new name for me:  
Tabirika Onyx.  I'm the only being in the world with this 
name.  Brika (pronounced Breeka) is the short version.  I'm 
very pleased with it.  I answered to it immediately.  It has 
the right sound to it, vivacious and regal.
        The middle of that week, someone from the shelter took 
me to the vet's in a truck.  I didn't like that.  I cried.  
But the big man who took care of me at the end of the short 
ride was very kind and gentle.  I was there two nights, but 
it seemed longer.  
        Then I heard Janet's voice.  Dr. Fox (the vet) took me 
out for the presentation himself.  I snuggled upside-down in 
his arms, looking at the world with new interest.  He 
laughed, and told Janet that I was "a sweet little 
lady," and if he'd known I was at the shelter, he might 
have adopted me himself.  Janet told him there was quite a 
competition for me from two other families, and that she was 
very happy to have won permission to adopt me.  She thanked 
the doctor, and we left.
        My tummy was sore from being "fixed", but I 
was so excited!  Janet took me home, and I met her other 
cats, Bastjun Amaranth and Canth Starshadow.  They were both 
old.  Bast had a brittle personality, so I left her alone.  
But Canth was a sweet old tom cat:  I liked him a lot.  He 
smiled and licked my cheek when I arrived.
        The next day, I couldn't hide my illness any longer.  I 
sat in the sun in a window, coughing.  Janet knew exactly 
what was wrong.  She called Dr. Fox, ordered some pills, 
picked them up, and gave me one as soon as she got home.  By 
then I could hardly move.  She piled a blanket beneath me, 
persuaded me to drink a little every once in a while, and 
waited.  I felt a great deal better the next day, and got 
well quickly.
        We settled into a routine.  Janet played with me, and 
brushed me.  It was a very quiet winter because Bast 
preferred it that way.  I got Christmas presents for the 
first time in my life, toys and treats.  Every time Janet 
fixed chicken or turkey for her own meals, there were bites 
just for me.  I have to stay on bland foods because I have 
irritable bowel syndrome.  But the food here is MUCH better 
than I was used to.  And there's catnip whenever I want it!
        Bast developed gastroenteritis that spring, and died.  
Janet said she was 18 1/2.  Canth wasn't interested in 
politics, so suddenly I became Alpha Cat!  I liked that--it 
is, after all, the rightful place for a princess.
        Janet adopted Syri shortly after Bast passed away.  I 
tried to get Syri to play, but she prefers her own 
Abysinnian-type games, like moving all her milk bottle ring 
toys from place to place in the house over a long period of 
time.  And I had so many new duties as Alpha Cat:  keeping 
the place safe from mice and voles (at which I excel), 
letting the raccoons know not to come too close to the 
windows in the summer, keeping tabs on the squirrels, making 
certain the deer process through the yard in an orderly 
manner, trading information with the crows, and keeping 
Janet happy.  Janet took me to visit her family in Missouri 
by car twice.  The second time I decided I really didn't 
like traveling, and cried all the way back from Des Moines, 
Iowa.  That was the end of my days as her traveling 
companion.  I didn't miss it.
        Canth died that fall.  He was a little over 18.  Syri 
and I missed him.  The three of us got along fine for more 
than 6 months after that, but Janet said the house's 
atmosphere was a little too quiet.  So she went back to the 
animal shelter to search for a male cat who could stir 
things up.  And she found him:  big smoke and silver Baron 
Figaro de Shannivere came to live with us the following fall 
during October.
        So there are four of us now.  We've achieved a good 
balance, even though Nivere doesn't always deign to listen 
to anyone else.  I biff his face with a paw every once in 
awhile to let him know of my exalted position, but he 
doesn't seem to care.  As baron of this demesne, he has his 
own level and duties.  Syri...well, I have to agree with 
Janet that Syri comes from a different dimension, and has 
her own as yet inexplicable personal management system, bits 
of which she reveals to the rest of us occasionally.  She's 
a good cat, and very affectionate.
        The only things that are important are love, food, 
play, love, attention, and more love.  We're all thoroughly 
spoiled.
        I have a new job.  I help Janet edit her writing.  I'm 
sitting in her lap proofreading this.  She says I've 
developed quite a discerning eye, and at least one ear 
twitches when she reads stories or articles aloud and the 
flow or syntax is off.  Of course--details are what I'm best 
at!  Janet says I helped a great deal with her short story 
"The Secret Staff", even though it is 
about...well, I can't say because that would reveal part of 
the mystery.
        Life with Janet is good.  I had an operation for a 
bladder stone just after the first of 2002, but I'm fully 
recovered now.  I eat medicine in my food that will prevent 
those happening again.  I allowed Shannivere to chase me 
through the cat tunnel last night, and in turn I washed his 
big ears.  We have a very good life.  
        Janet shakes her head in wonder at us sometimes.  She 
says she can't believe she has such good, loving, sweet cats 
who get along so well.  Part of it is our personalities and 
how Janet instinctively knew we might fit together.  I think 
a lot of it is the person we live with.  Janet was kind, 
truthful, and infinitely loving with all of us from the 
beginning of our relationships, and that has not changed.  
Therefore, not one of us is going to let her down as long as 
we're here. You have the word of the Princess of this castle 
on that!