As the official spokescat for Mercantilium.com, I lead a pretty glamorous life. My days are filled with photo shoots and gourmet food. But things haven't always been so easy.

Here's the story of how I came to be known as Sputnik VonWiskars.

• The Early Years

• Worming My Way Inside

The Early Years

I come from good alley cat stock. Nobody is quite sure exactly when I was born, and I can't remember that far back myself. But Softie (my human) tells me that it was probably sometime in 1998.

I spent the first few years of my life fending for myself in back yards and alleys. It was a bit of a difficult existence, but there was a nice old lady named Mary who would feed me from time to time. She called me "Wiskars", and all in all she was very good to me. I thought about moving in with her, but she had two really big and mean cats, and I was much too afraid to come near the house. She did make me a nice house with blankets though, so that I wouldn't get too cold in the winter time.

But one day, while on my rounds, I noticed a cute little girl ("little" being a term of endearment, not a description of size) flirting with me from a garden level window. Her name was Daisy and she was black and white, with a pink nose, just like me! (I think she came from good alley cat stock too.) She wasn't mean like those other kitties, and we'd spend hours and hours talking and purring through the window. She told me that there was a nice human named "Softie" who lived there and gave her great food, and said that I should come move in with them.

However, there was one complicating factor. Softie wasn't really the head of the household. The house was run by a feisty Manx named Mow. I think that Softie actually spelled her name wrong, it should have been "Mao", like the Chinese dictator because she ruled the house with an iron paw! It wasn't really that she was mean, she was just a princess, and Daisy didn't understand that one must give great deference to princesses. Well, relations had degenerated to the point that Mow was the upstairs cat and Daisy was the downstairs cat. All in all this wasn't a bad solution, and Softie made sure to spend time with both cats every day, but Daisy did tend to get a little bit lonely.

At that point, I knew that I was needed, but Softie wasn't so sure. (I think she figured that she already had enough trouble!) But I was undeterred, and I set about the task of convincing Softie that it would really be better for everyone if I moved in.