She looks just like my fluffy boy!!
My floof was a lone, tiny, feral kitten at around 6 weeks old (we think his momma n sibling might have died but not sure) and just wandered into a nearby home with a cat flap; luckily it was the home of a lovely RSPCA lady and although she couldn’t afford to keep him in addition to her own cat, she looked after him until I came in one day specifically looking for a black cat to keep our Prince Ozzy company.
She said, “I just happen to know the perfect cat for you…”
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He was in the shelter for all of a couple of hours; she brought him in to work the next day and we arrived late morning to pick him up. I saw him in his pen, went to the glass and said, “You! You’re my boy.” He turned upside down, looked at me with those big, shiny, round eyes, touched his paw to where my fingers were on the glass and stole my heart forever
He was already named Harley by the RSPCA lady and once we heard his loud purr (sounds like a nearby engine idling), we knew he had to keep it!
He came at my worst point of my illness; I was bed bound, up all night alone most nights and wracked with constant pain and discomfort. He slept on my chest and used to gently paw my face to check I was still breathing from time to time, his almost deafening purr seemingly set to “maximum healing resonance” at all times. He followed close to my heels wherever I went and I gradually integrated myself back into the household I had long withdrawn from, lured in by the lil sociable fluffy monster as he appreciated every little thing we gave him.
My little motorbike cat healed me as much as he could, n still continues to try every day