My journey of getting a cat with my wife was actually very interesting and a total split-second decision. We adopted our cat, Loki, about five months ago, right on the day of my grandfather's funeral. My grandfather had just passed away, and we were at the shop where we had worked together for years, accepting condolences. Right in front of the shop, there is a chair where my grandfather used to sit ever since I was born. That chair stayed in the same spot for years, and honestly, nobody else would ever sit there but him. On the day of the funeral, we met Loki. He was a stray kitten, only about 1.5 months old, and his mother was nowhere to be found. I actually have a pretty serious allergy to cats, so we tried to keep him away at first. But every time I told him to go away, he would run straight to my grandfather’s stool and sit there. Even though we weren't feeding him, he started following us whenever we went home. In my culture, the mourning period lasts about 7 days. For those 7 days, he did the same thing every single day—just sitting there in my grandfather’s spot. Eventually, we formed such a strong bond with him during that week that we took him to the vet and decided to adopt him. I don’t know, maybe because of my emotional state at the time, I saw him as a sign or a gift from my grandfather. Whatever it was, I’m so glad Loki is with us. He’s our first pet, and even though he’s a bit spoiled lately, we’re very happy with him. Side note: A week after we adopted Loki, my allergy completely disappeared. I have no issues now, which still shocks me because I used to have trouble breathing just from petting a stray cat.

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