At first, everyone loved me. Oh, no. Not me. They loved my "rarity", or so they thought.
They traded lists for me all the time. They thought I'd be rare or something. I have lost count of how many owners I've had. Then one day, I got my latest owner.
They traded a red Aussie for me, so I heard. They mooned over me, showing me to the other owners. But they didn't play with me.
Then my rarity came out. I was uncommon. My owner shouted in rage, and threw me out of their home. I was left with scars on my small little body, left to freeze in the snow.
Then she came. Her. She was sweet and picked me up, placing me in her cats group. I was treated with love and affection, but my wounds wouldn't heal. I was in pain every day.
One day, my owner came up to me with tears streaming down her face. She told me I'd be ridded of pain, and she took me to the vet, and the vet put a weird needle into my fur. My owner burst into tears and hugged me, stroking my fur. I gently licked her face. I felt very drowsy, and I felt darkness looming over me. I let out a feeble purr and gave way to it, letting my last breath escape my body with love.