A few years ago, a hungry, dirty homeless guy showed up on my back porch, and it was the best thing that ever could have happened to me.

Here’s why: That homeless guy was a scrawny, friendly, talkative black-and-white cat who worked his way into my heart and into my home. I like to think he picked me, and that even though I gave him a safe home and brought him inside, I’m the lucky one here.

I’m the kind of person who will feed anything who shows up at my doorstep; I’ve fed outdoor cats for years and never brought them in to live as permanent residents. This kitty was special for some reason.

Right away I named him Moo. He was white with black spots, so what else would his name be? The first day he showed up, I gave him food and water and watched as he scarfed down the entire plate. I petted him and told him he was cute, and went about my night.

The next morning, Moo was still on my back porch, so I gave him breakfast, some treats, and fresh water. And when I got home from work that day, he was still there.

I had an Adirondack chair out there, so I put a couple towels on it so he could use it as a bed and talked to him about how it was his. He went right up there and made himself comfortable.

Days passed, and Moo and I started to bond and have a little routine. I’d go outside and call "Moooooo!" and he’d come, usually right from the bushes behind my porch. I didn’t care if the neighbors thought I was crazy for mooing. Then he’d have breakfast or dinner and we’d sit on the Adirondack chair together and read for hours. He liked to snuggle right alongside me.

A couple weeks later, Christmas came and Moo got a couple presents and a box to sleep in. I was in denial still, trying to convince myself that my other cat, Pimp, was an only child and always would be (he is an old man and I didn’t want to disrupt his comfortable world). Moo slept in his box and played with his toys, and begged to come in.

At night, he would sleep on the outside of my bedroom windowsill and look in, the opposite of what a cat would do if he was inside. I talked to him through the open window. During the day, he’d climb the screen doors and yell at me from out there. I talked to him then, too.

And then one day, after three weeks of Moo making a very good case about why he should be mine, I realized that he was mine, and that I’d be completely crushed if I called him one day and he didn’t come. And the second I realized that, I scooped him up and told him, "Okay, Moo. You’re coming in!" and called my parents to tell them they had a new grandson.

It’s been four years since then, and I can’t imagine my life without Moo. He is an absolute lovebug and doesn’t leave my side. He walks with me all through the house, sleeps on my head at night, lies on the couch with me, and greets me at the front door.

Our special time together is treat time, and he runs to the pantry constantly because he knows that’s where the stash is. It makes me feel good to give him whatever he wants; he deserves it.

Moo is a momma’s boy. I have no idea what his story is or where he came from, but he has trust issues with new people. He is the most devoted, smothering cat I’ve ever had (with me, at least), but he is wary of others and it takes him weeks to warm up to a new person. Treats and food help if you’re trying to win his heart. And once he decides he loves you, you have a cat friend for life.

I don’t know why someone would have dumped Moo where they did, but I guess I’m a little glad they did. Whoever this person was obviously didn’t deserve him, and now he and I are both better off together.

So that’s why I say I’m the lucky one — he could have chosen any other porch to camp out on, but he chose mine. I thank him every day ÔǪ and let him have a few extra treats when I do.

This post was sponsored by TEMPTATIONS┬« Treats for Cats — Cats Can’t Resist┬«.