My cat was my best friend. That soft, black and white cat followed me everywhere. If I was eating, so was he, and whatever room I was in that cat was also in the room with me. That cat did a lot for me. He took the blame for me when I got in trouble, so I thought, and he was there to comfort me when I was scared.
       One day, his neck ripped open. I was heartbroken. I thought my best friend was going to be gone for ever. My dad told me it was time for him to go, but my mom thought otherwise. She saved that soft, black and white cat with marble eyes and a button nose, who I cared for as much as a real cat because to me, he was as real as real could get. And though he was a fake cat, our friendship was real.