A/N. Thinking back on adopting my own cat. Although of course, I am making up most of this. Just how I met my cat is the same. I didn't actually do any of that. I don't own Loki. Loki wears glasses in my mind. Nice, black-framed glasses. And for those of you who don't know: going from cold outside to warm inside causes glasses to fog up like crazy. And then you can't see for a couple of seconds until that fog clears…

Sheri looked up as the bell on the door chimed. A tall, thin man with black hair stood there. For a moment, she wondered what he was doing, but then she realized that he was waiting for his glasses to clear. He wore an expensive three-piece suit, everything in its place, right down to his scarf. "Can I help you?" she asked as he started looking around.

"I'm looking for a place to hide the body," Loki said.

"Well…" she paused, pretending to think. "I'll have to see how many body-bags we have in storage."

He nodded. "Well, let me know." With that he began looking at all the cats. Each one begged him to bring it home. But one cat caught his attention. This pretty tabby was sitting in one of the cages.

Seeing the man looking at this cat, she said, "We're just keeping him separate until his leg heals. We had to remove a cist. But other than that, he's healthy. You wanna hold him? We don't really have a name for him. He was set on our step in a box and that's it."

Loki nodded. The moment that door opened, the brownish-grey tabby put his front paws on Loki's shoulder and crawled into his arms. This brought the smallest of smiles to Loki's face. "This one," he said. Loki knew that when it came to cats, you didn't pick the cat. The cat chose you. And this cat had certainly chosen Loki.