It was a dark and stormy November evening that
Malcolm Aleister X came into my life. I sauntered into
Furry Friends Refuge with the mission of adopting a playful kitten.
However, I walked out with a seasoned, snarly black cat. Something had
drawn me to him, curled up in the box high on the wall. When I announced
my choice, the shelter staff thought I was crazy, as they thought no one
would ever adopt this cranky creature. He fought like hell as they put him
in a traveling crate and drew up the papers. Malcolm was his
shelter name, but I thought I'd add some flair in an homage to common
superstitions.
When I brought Malcolm home, he shot out of the crate and hid. Around 4
a.m., I awoke to him curled up on my bed next to me. From that moment,
we've been best friends. In the years since, we have been through a lot: 3
moves, 2 surgeries, many pounds of food and litter, and countless stolen
bites of human meals. Malcolm enjoys napping, licking himself, chasing his
tail, and plotting to take over the world.