Meet my therapy cat, Tigger.

For approximately three years, I have begged my parents to get me a kitten. Their response was that I already have a cat. While there is a cat who lives in my house, everyone knows she loves my dad the most and is, therefore, his cat. Her name is Cassie and she has lived here for about seven years, since she was a kitten.

Ironically, I was the one who asked if she could live inside. I would run down the hallway and she would chase after me. She would curl up in my lap and sleep. Her first night in the house, she slept in my bed. That was when the warning occurred. When I woke up the next morning, my sheets and pajamas were covered in cat poo. I still adored Cassie, but that may have been her first time telling me that the feelings were not mutual.

Cassie was sweet and playful for awhile. After about a year, she had a tragic accident with a recliner. Her little neck got caught in it, as the recliner was lowering back down. We thought she wouldn't make it. We put her on a little pillow, surrounded her, crying and praying during what we thought would be her last moments. The next morning she awoke and acted as if nothing had happened. Except that the nice sweet cat was no more and instead we had a little hissing and growling machine. We like to say the niceness got knocked out of her that day.

Don't get me wrong; Cassie has her moments. But you must love her on her own terms. Pet her when she wants to be petted and only for how long she wants to be petted. Play when she wants to play. And never, ever, under any circumstances do you touch her tummy. But despite all this, she is our dear pet and we love her. Especially Dad.

When he goes to bed, she runs down the hall after him and sleeps under the bed or near the window. When Dad wakes up in the morning, Cassie runs into the bedroom again and lets dad pet her while she plays with his socks. When she hears the Windows computer shut down noise, she gets up because she knows Dad is about to change rooms. They have this routine together and nobody else seems to understand what Dad did to receive all of Cassie's love.

So it is understandable that I wanted a kitten. I wanted a cat that was mine. One who would let me pet it whenever I wanted, pick it up and carry it, play with it, and have it actually like me. I used every possible thing I could think of to get my parents to buy me a cat. I reminded them of each of my medical conditions several times... I mean if playing the heart card won't get me a kitten, what will? I begged, pleaded, tried to convince, and each holiday I just pretended like I was getting a cat. Dad told me to keep dreaming and Mom always said I was making her feel badly for not getting me a kitten.

But the beautiful and magical holiday season of 2014 brought wonderful things to me. The kittenless hearts of my parents were melted and somehow through the magic of the season, a kitten appeared under our Christmas tree.

I immediately figured out that it was for me. His little orange face was poking out of the cat carrier, a bow laying on the floor that had been tied around his neck. He was small, only 5 pounds, and had such a sweet face. My parents told me that he was a rescue, who had been abandoned by his mother, and had been hand fed the first few months of his life. He had been given the name Tigger and I decided it fit him perfectly.

We quickly bonded and once he got comfortable, the purring started... and wouldn't stop. This cat has the loudest purr I have ever heard. The only time he doesn't purr is when he is eating or sleeping. Sometimes when he curls up next to me at night, I can't fall asleep because he is purring so loudly. Tigger is also a patient little guy. I can pick him up and carry him around the house with no complaining. He will play with me, let me hold and pet him, and he even takes naps with me. He has just the right temperament to be a good fit for me.

Individuals with certain medical conditions often have service or therapy animals. Recently, I had been telling my parents that I want to get a therapy dog when I am living on my own. Therapy animals visit places like hospitals, schools, nursing homes, and colleges to help people with emotional support and stress relief. For those in the nursing home, having a furry friend come to visit can provide some joy to their lonely day. As a college student, I love when the therapy animals visit us during finals week. It is so nice to take a study break and relax by petting a dog.

Once I got Tigger acclimated to our house, I began to realize that he has the type of demeanor needed by therapy animals. I looked up information on how to train to be a therapy team. We have to wait until Tigger is older, but we then can attend classes together and complete an evaluation and training. For now, I bought a harness for him to practice wearing, since that is a requirement. I have high hopes for this little guy.

Until he can help others, he is my own personal therapy cat. He is already bringing me so much joy. Today, after a particularly hard day at physical therapy, I scooped up little Tigger and we took a nap together. Just relaxing next to a furry friend can make you feel so much better.

Oh and for those of you wondering, Cassie and Tigger aren't quite best friends yet. I think we may get there eventually. For now, they can be in the same room without a fight breaking out and I am grateful for that. Tigger is determined to play with Cassie and although she protests with hisses and growls, he just keeps on trying. As I said, he is a very patient cat, and apparently wants to be everyone's friend.

"What greater gift than the love of a cat."

-Charles Dickens