A cat story. 

So in 1991 I move to Portland Or. Was clean and sober about 3 years. One day on my way home from work I heard some kittens crying in an abandoned house. On investigation I found two small kittens buried in refuse in a back room. Took them home, and then to a vet. One didn't make it but the other I adopted. We thought is was a male, so I named her Dexter after Dexter Gordon. 2 years pass. And the the woman I had moved with, left to join a women's art community. 

So Dexter and me against the world, and for a while everything was great. I had a good high paying job. Rent was cheap. I thought I was living my best life. Then one evening, and to this day I have no idea why, while waiting for a bus transfer on my way home from work, I walked into a bar and ordered a shot and a beer. I was into my third drink when I realized I was drinking. Almost 5 years clean, and I just forgot I was an alcoholic and a junkie. Got completely drunk, took a cab home.

Dexter immediately knew something was wrong, and never left my side. I was so demoralized by relapsing that I called in sick, and continued to drink. Months went by, and now I was chipping a little heroin. Dexter was my only companion, my work was suffering, and I eventually got fired. During all this Dexter was extremely attentive, to the point that she stoped chasing birds and squirrels. I would walk in the door and she would jump on my shoulder and not leave, even when I passed out.

I sank into a deep depression, drinking, using a little bit more each week. But Dexter was always there, I had to take care of her, and she me. She became the center of my life. This might sound like hyperbole, but through many ideations of suicide, the only thing I could think of was who was going to take care of Dexter. I felt to depressed to ask for help. And was running out of money.

On day my sister showed up, she knew what was happening to me. She had a cat carrier in her hand. She said "I am taking Dexter home with me. You get thirty days clean, and you can have her back."  Sounds harsh, but she knew, that until I hit another bottom nothing else would work. I was devastated. It took another month but I did completely surrender again.
Now homeless, winter on the streets of Portland is rough. I called my sister. She agreed to let me kick, on a mattress on her basement floor. So I did. 

As soon as I could walk, I went to an NA meeting. And found help and community again.
Dexter was with me for the next 16 years. She finally went back to chasing birds and squirrels. Every day I thanked her for saving my life. For she really did. She passed 8 years ago, at my new place, in her sleep, on a hot pad at the foot of my bed.

My clean date is February 10 1999.

Cats are magical.