"Steve" is the top-secret codename of the world's greatest super-spy! He's a super hero with lasers shooting from his eyeballs! He's a genius! A superstar! A ghost! He's a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma topped with cheese and hot sauce!

Well...actually he's just a cat. A really obnoxius cat.

I use his name as a hacker pseudonym, like an obnoxious alterego I can blame my digital wickedness on. "powered by Hurricane Steve" is a little joke, referring to code of mine that drives web pages.

Steve left his mark on our lives (and most of the furniture) in late 2003. He was a stray cat brought to Murrayhill Vet from the Oregon Humane Society, and entered into our adoption program. After a full medical work-up, it turns out Steve had FIV (i.e.; like HIV in humans, but not quite as aggressive), ringworm, fleas, malnutrition and dental problems. On top of that, he showed signs of head-tilt.

Head-tilt is an old name given to the peculiar condition where an ear infection affects a cat's sense of gravity and "up-and-downness". As with us humans, a cat's inner ear organs are relied on for this sense. A cat with head-tilt will tilt their head to one side as an unconscious attempt to "right" their orientation within the world around them. This is usually a problem that occurs in kittens, and easily reverses as the ear infection heals and the kitten continues to develop. In Steve's case, the veterinarians guessed the ear infection to be chronic and damaging, and he grew to adulthood with head-tilt, and may have it permanently.

No worries, though. With Steve, it simply looked like his "character", like a human smugly cocking their head up on one side. It was the Humane Society workers who named him Steve Tilt. I guess the name always stuck.

A cat with FIV is difficult to get adopted, and Steve spent a lot of time with us at the hospital waiting for adoption. He wasn't allowed physical contact with other cats, but he still had free roam of the doctors' office and the hospital after closing time. He was very spoiled.

And I don't mean spoiled in a nice way. He was spoiled rotten. He had an impressive talent for getting on peoples' good side and bad side multiple times throughout a single day. One minute, he was cute and snuggly, then an obnoxious s**t the next. We all loved this cat. And we wanted to stomp on him, too. He was always quick to curl up and sleep in anybody's lap. He would bite people when it was time to be put up. He charmed everyone for treats. But they had to be exactly the treats he wanted. His 4 favorite activities were eating, sleeping, purring and whining.

He wouldn't sit on the floor or a cat bed. No. He had to have his own chair. And if you tried to steal the chair from him, he'd bite you. Then of course, he'd hop up and fall asleep in your lap.

Some employees at the hospital believed they could tell what time of day it was according to when Steve was whining for breakfast, sleeping on a doctor's lap, charming the customers, pooping in a houseplant, sleeping on a sunny window sill, whining for lunch, drinking from somebody's teacup, sharpening his claws on a sofa, pawing at the window to passers by, whining about dinner, or throwing himself on the floor and pitching a fit until he got more treats.

We loved him. And we wanted to stomp on him. It's been a long time since I'd last seen Steve. He made quite an impression on all our lives. Still, when I see a pile of cat poop in a houseplant, it never fails to make me smile (and roll my eyes).

Where is Steve now? In 2005, he was finally adopted by a very nice lady with an equally obnoxious Golden Retriever. Last I heard, Steve and the dog play, sleep and eat together everyday.