Come on

Black and furry, slender tail curved into a question, large yellow eyes--black slits looking back at me. The laziest cat in the world was here, with a name I can't recall; probably because it didn't exist. Sleeping at my feet and killing all my mice; I was sure a cat was all I needed. All black to ward off people, maybe counter the bad luck glued to me over the years---super lazy to be able to handle it's own. Having time to yourself as a cat lover is critical, especially when the cat is too lazy to damage or annoy you into action.

Let's see

Light on it's feet from the exercise. Walking around the backyard looking for strays, being the leader of a congregation of it's kind. Kind of contradicts the lazy thing, right? To some people, and that's the problem with labels. Labels are shapeshifters, morphing based on context. I need a cat that's lazy to everyone else but me.

I think

Point is, the name doesn't matter, you get it? I wouldn't even say I need a cat, specifically anyway. I don't need anything, but I do need something or someone. That's what I really want, to live comfortable, I guess. But, that's more of a want with survival in the room.