Officially Stefny

In February of 2012, I was killing time before work at the PetSmart next door. I always have to stop in and look at the various animals, even though I know it will break my heart not to take them all home. While I was walking by the cats, this beautiful one-year-old ginger boy noticed me. He came up to the glass and started meowing at me. I put my hand up to the plexiglass. He immediately began rubbing his face on the clear barrier, trying desperately to feel my hand. Just like that, I was in love. I pulled out my phone and called my mom, telling her that I met this cat and I NEEDED this cat. If you had known me since childhood, you would know that I loved the name Benjamin. It was fate. It was divine. It was meant to be.

After work, my mom came and brought a carrier for me to collect him. From the moment he left his enclosure and we put him in the cart, his eyes never left me. He chose me. I was his person. For the next almost six years, Benjamin was obsessed with me, dare I say even more than I with him. When I was gone, he anxiously stared at the door waiting for me to return. If he wasn’t already sleeping with me, he would zoom into the room and jump on my bed as soon as he heard the sheets rustle. When he would lie on top of me, it was as if he wanted to live inside me – just being close wasn’t enough. So it was hard to figure out what was wrong on the evening of November 16, 2016, when he didn’t greet me at the door.