She is aptly named for her and I are now in sync. When I walk into the room, she weaves patterns around my feet, zigzagging and crossing over within my ankles and legs dozens of times, making a once easy job of tidying up the bed virtually impossible without falling on my face.

This black kitten with a small dot of white on her chest, the one who used to scoot under the bed in terror every time I walked in the room- now wants to be my dance partner.

I wish the last woman who saw her in the room and made the judgement that she would never be saved could see her now.

Her presence is comforting, her trust overwhelming. She is still so tiny, but she has a big heart and holds her own when Axle decides to bully her. Where before, she used to concern me, now when I see her all I can do is smile and ask her “May I have this dance?”