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// Entry #1,138 
// Story: Dear Success 
// by PresentPerfect 
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Dearest Diary,

Today, I had a breakthrough with Fluffernutter.

Oh goodness, just writing that makes me feel--

Ah, but I see I've not written about the kitten before.  Allow me to remedy this!

Back in September, my parents found a little black kitten huddled under their front stoop.  The poor thing was able to take care of itself, but it was alone, with no sign of a mother cat anywhere.  It was skittish around ponies, but after a week of feeding it, they were able to bring it inside and give it a little space in the kitchen all to itself.

Of course, as I have no lived with my parents for quite some time, I found out all the details later from Sweetie Belle.  I was quite enamored with her tales of kittenish diversion.  It's been ever so long since Opalescence was a kitten, and cats are just so adorable at that age!

Being so enamored, I made time in my busy schedule to visit my parents and see how the little dear was getting along.  This was only a little over a week into the process of getting it used to being cared for.

What a darling creature!  A perfectly sleek black coat, little yellow eyes that blinked when it got sleepy, that little twitchy tail that came to a point at the end!  It was of course fearful of the new face in its midst, but that first day, I was able to coax it to play with a long, feathered toy for perhaps twenty minutes.  What fun!

And yes, Diary, I know what you're thinking, so before you ask, the name was a case of my parents indulging Sweetie Belle.  Where she came up with it, I'll never know.  I even brought Fluttershy over to try and find out if it perhaps had a name already, or a family, or if it would be acceptable to take it to the vet for a checkup, but she said it simply didn't wish to speak with her.  Can you imagine?  The one pony in this world who could speak with it in the first place, and the cat has its own tongue, as it were.

Anyway, life progressed this way over the next two months, myself coming to visit once every other week or so.  And in that time, I started to despair ever so slightly.

You see, I enjoyed my time playing with the dear, or watching it play with other members of my family, but whenever I showed up, its first instinct was always to hide.  It never seemed comfortable around me!  The final straw came when I saw it climb into my mother's lap while I tried to no effect to get it interested in a stuffed mouse toy.

I was absolutely devastated, dear Diary!  And who could blame me?  I felt neglected, snubbed even, having done nothing to offend it!  Why, oh why wouldn't it show me the same affection and love as it had my parents?  Even my father, himself very much not a cat sort of pony, was able to pet it!

I find this all somewhat embarrassing to admit, but that is why I admit it here, and not to anypony else.  Why, I may have even wallowed, just a bit, over the lack of kitten affection in my life.

But then the answer came to me.  Mother, Father and Sweetie all live with the cat.  I am simply an itinerant, as it were.  I am not putting the effort into this relationship, for that is what it is, to get much benefit out of it.  This is not for lack of trying -- my schedule is what it is -- but feeling awful about it was doing nopony any good.  So I stopped, and I felt a bit foolish, as the answer was so simple.

Which brings us to today.  I was in my parents' living room, for they've been able to open up more of the house for the kitten to inhabit, playing with little Fluffernutter and a ribbon toy.  It's one of those cat toys where the fluttery bits are tied onto a stick, to help ponies without magic entertain their pets.

We got into a game where the kitten would play with the end of the ribbon for a while, then stop to take a breath, whereupon I would stroke its back with the stick part.  This seemed to confuse it at first, but over the course of some minutes, it slowly got used to the idea.

Until, eventually, it crawled into my lap and I got to pet it.

This didn't last long, mind you.  But oh, it was magical!  So soft and warm!  It was all I could do to keep from squealing in delight!

When it had had enough, it gave me a little nip on the hoof (nothing painful, just enough to say "I'm done") and scampered off to play with some other toy.  Mother had taken notice and said something along the lines of, "Well, if that's not progress!"  I had to agree.

So yes, dear Diary.  It was silly of me to feel so downtrodden about not being a kitten's best friend.  Our rapport will improve given time, I'm sure of it.  I shall simply have to put up with not being its best friend for a while longer, as my schedule dictates what it must.

I suspect there might be a lesson applicable to all kinds of friendship in this.

Your faithfully,

Rarity