That is why Sheba gets +1,000,000,000 points

This morning I almost fell asleep while watching Sheba blink blearily at me, my chin propped uncomfortably on the cardboard of her scratch lounge. There's so much noise in our lives, noise that we take for granted because it constantly surrounds us: cars whizzing past, horns honking, people chatting, TVs blaring, air conditioners humming, the voices in your head judging you, and so on. But when Sheba's around, all that becomes muted; the world becomes fluffy around the edges; and everything is all right. My most vivid memory of Sheba is also my only memory of perfect silence: in the winter of 2009, I opened my eyes one morning to soft sunlight and her little face right beside mine, her head pillowed on my arm. There was absolutely no sound, just light and cat.

Sheba is a tiny creature who patiently endures my constant need to touch her silky fur; who licks my nose when she realizes it's there; whose whiskers vibrate when she purrs extra loudly; and who coos like a dove when she's especially content. All she needs is food, water, her kitty litter, and lots and lots of petting, preferably on a warm lap, or on the closest laptop. In return, I get peace. And that is why Sheba gets an extra one billion points just for existing.