From the moment I brought your 9-week-old self home last year and watched you tentatively explore your new kingdom on tiny, wobbly legs, I knew you held my heart in your paws.

In all honesty, you're a royal pain.

You are destructive. Nothing is safe from your reign of terror. My fancy high heels? You decided they would make the perfect chew toy. My posters? Those sure are fun to rip off the walls, aren't they? The decorations on the plant shelf? Wonder how long you can sprint around it before... oops. Well, that's ruined now. There are no limits. Toothbrushes and hair bands beware. Eggshells in the garbage disposal? Pulling them out and strewing them around the floor is your favorite sport. And don't forget the dog. I know where your true loyalties lie. My mom's wine cork collection? You enjoyed every second of knocking those out of the basket for him to chew up, didn't you? And I know you are the one who taught him to jump the gate.

You are relentless. Especially when it comes to my food. My cereal? Of course you are entitled to it. You climb onto my lap over and over again in an attempt to get it. I especially love when you hit the spoon out of my hand on purpose. I left my burrito on the table while I left the room? It's yours now. That now-empty pan on the stove? It doesn't matter how many times I chase you away, you keep jumping onto the counter until you get your fix. Even after I've put it in the sink, you climb on in to "clean it" for me. My favorite was when you snuck up and grabbed my pizza out of my mouth. The sauce stains on my shirt live to tell the tale.

You are incorrigible. It's impossible to get you to behave. "No" is nothing to you, even though I know you know what it means. Squirt bottles? Bring it on! Time out in the crate? That just means naptime, right? Actual naptime? Let's see how long you can keep me awake by jumping on my stomach and banging on the door to be let out. Of course, as soon as I let you out, you just ram the door from the other side until I let you back in. And don't forget to meow in my face. Sleep just wouldn't be the same without your sweet serenades. Everything goes according to you. The vet's nurse told me you are two parts personality and zero parts patience. That about sums it up.

You are brilliant. You open doors, cabinets, closets and drawers. You even know how your crate opens. I've watched you try. Thank goodness you are not strong enough to do it. You can open the tin of dog treats whenever you want a snack. When I tell you something, you answer (probably something sassy). You know exactly how to snap my purse hanger against the door to make the optimal amount of noise, so no matter where I am in the house, I will be sure to hear you. You drag your toys to me when you want to play, and you were way too smart for the laser pointer I got you. You knew you couldn't actually catch it, and figured out where it was coming from in five minutes. Instead of chasing the light, now you just come running for the laser itself, refusing to give up until you've gotten it from my hands. Paper bags don't fool you. When I scratch the back, instead of diving into the bag after the sound, you simply jump over the bag to get my hand.

You are beautiful. I'd never seen a Tortie until you. Your black and orange fur in gorgeous. Everyone who meets you, or is subjected to one of my many pictures of you, comments on your looks. The white stripe on your sweet nose is absolutely endearing, and your little paws are perfect — two black, two orange. Your eyes are about five different colors, and you always look like you know more than everyone else in the room, which is probably true. At least about me. Sitting in the window sill, you appear majestic and regal, and you have the facial expression to match.

You are altogether lovely. You adore me just as much as I adore you. You follow me around the house and even sit on the edge of the tub when I shower. I will never forget how you cry at the door when I leave and come running as soon as I get home, grabbing onto my legs until I pick you up. You sit on my lap while I do homework and "help out" by typing things on the computer. Whenever I go to my room, you run as fast as you can and beat me to the door to make sure you don't get left behind, or else you simply plop down right in front of my feet to get my attention. When I forget to pet you, you make sure to remind me by biting my hand, or ankle, or foot, or leg, or face (out of love, of course). Bed time cuddles are your favorite (despite your opposition to naptime), and you're always game to crawl under the covers and keep me warm. If I kiss your nose, you return the favor by purring and gently biting mine. I honestly don't know if you even realize that you are a cat and I am not. Most importantly, whenever I'm upset, you instantly cease your grand adventure of the moment to comfort me. You wrap yourself around my chest and neck and purr into my chin until I feel better.

So thank you for the trials you put me through and the... entertainment? Thank you for your endless comfort and love and for keeping all of my secrets. Thank you for being my fur baby.