I've always found them interesting, especially the bit about them having nine lives.
One time, Mrs P from across the street owned one, an adorable Snowshoe kitten.
According to her, she'd become so lonely after her husband died, so she'd gotten Xavier.
She always said it really helped to have someone to see first thing in the morning, someone to talk to, so he slept beside her and she mostly told him everything, even discussed the news with him. She tried to keep him in the house with her most of the time, but Xavier always had his ways.
Only problem was, Mrs. P had poor eyesight and could only really hear if you stood a couple of feet from her, which meant half the time she poured Xavier's milk on the floor beside his bowl, and she usually had to call for me or my little brother Andy to help after she had searched for him around the house in the evenings. We really didn't mind helping out, but we couldn't be around always.
One afternoon, after we got home from school, I ran over to say hi to Xavier and found Mrs. P sobbing instead. She said she had dropped him beside her for a nap; she must've rolled over.
Mum and dad kept telling us not to worry because Xavier would come back and live out another life.
I never told them I hoped he didn't; he had spent days listening to Mrs. P in her kitchen; days cooped up in her room. Kinda like how parents bring children into the world and turn them into 'problem buddies'; little people they can complain to about everything wrong with the world and not really expect any response from. 'Buddies' who have to sit out on life because they can't get over their own regrets or mistakes.
I can't understand how they could want that.
To feel alive at the expense of another person's life.
In my little mind, Xavier had been miserable.
If I were given another chance to come back, to live again,
I would never take it.
~Page 9, Dairy of a suicidal girl