Every cat reminds me of Samantha, the sweet little black cat who entered my life over a quarter century ago. Misha is very much like her in her appearance, her sad beginning, and the happy change in her life. Samantha was never aggressive toward humans, but she was exceptionally timid. For most of her life I was the only one who she would approach for attention, but her final years were brightened considerably by her friendship with Shadow. Shadow herself has grown old, with many white hairs in her black coat. Love never completely goes away; it just transfers from one to another. Looking at Misha brings back a flood of pleasant memories of life with cats.