Feral to House Cat
I first met my cat, Shadow, at 10:00 at night when I was 15. I heard a banging noise on my porch, and when I opened the door, a small dark figure sprinted away. Impulsively, I said "Wait!". Amazingly, this cat stopped just short of the porch stairs and looked at me for a long moment before running away.
I've always had dogs, but never a cat. I felt bad that this stray cat didn't have a name, so I started calling her Shadow (she's a dark grey color and I needed a gender neutral name).
Shadow started coming around more, and each time I saw her, she stayed a bit longer. Eventually she became pregnant. She had two babies. One, a black and white male I called Oreo, was very friendly. He ventured very quickly over to me and let me pick him up and pet him. Shadow slowly followed. I was able to pet her once or twice before she shied away, and I was in love.
I started spending lots of time outside with her; talking to her, singing to her, giving her treats, earning her trust. She had two more litters, all of which were feral. Eventually, she was tame enough to come to me, allow me to pet her, rub against my legs, and sometimes be held. She became pregnant a fourth time, and my family brought her inside. She gave birth, her kittens were given to loving homes (and now, almost five years later, we still keep in touch with all of them), and she was spayed.
Almost five years later, Shadow has exceeded my wildest expectations. Far from the timid feral she used to be, she playfully smacks around the dogs, plays with lasers and string, comes running at the sound of treats, solicits attention and cuddles from not just me but all members of my family, and sleeps in bed with me every night. I am so proud of what she became, and I'm so excited for her to go through the next several phases of my life with me. I couldn't ask for a better cat.