I’m Billy Jean. Orange, white, dignified, and perfectly at home in the Trahan household. But it wasn’t always this way. About eight years ago, I wandered into their yard like I owned the place (because let’s be honest, I soon would). A toddler named Luca was toddling around, and I figured, yep, this is it. I’m staying.

At first, I lived the rugged outdoor life: rooftop naps, bird-watching, late-night bug battles, the works. I was the neighborhood's mysterious cat-about-town. So mysterious, in fact, that I kept getting picked up by well-meaning strangers who thought I was lost. (I wasn’t. I was just patrolling my turf.) Thankfully, my ID chip always brought me back home, where I truly belonged.

Life took a turn when I lost an eye. No need for drama, I prefer to keep the details vague and mysterious. But the Trahans didn’t hesitate. They moved me indoors, gave me a cushy retirement plan, and I’ve been running things from inside ever since.

Don’t be fooled by my missing eye. I’m still the household’s top lizard and bug hunter. My bird-chasing days may be over, but I’m not done keeping this family on their toes. I supervise everything: the boys’ playtime, the revolving door of foster pets, and the comings and goings of Layla Jean, the dog who thinks she’s in charge (she’s not).

I'm not just a pet, I’m a constant presence. Always nearby. Always ready to purr, nap, or silently judge. My days are filled with sunbeams, chin scratches, and the occasional gourmet snack (the perks of being royalty). And yes, I’m as spoiled as I sound. Think spa days, cozy corners, and total freedom to claim any seat in the house.

The Trahans say I was meant to find them. But truthfully, I think we were meant for each other. Their love gave me a second chance, and now, my days are filled with warmth, safety, and the kind of home every cat dreams of.