By request, here's a post on kitties. I'm a cat lover, but a member of my household is allergic, so I have to do without a kitty friend.
Here's some love for my kitties of the past:
Sukyi, my first cat was found as a stray by my dad. He only had half a tail. Big, drooly Russian Blue. He lived a long life, but eventually had to be put down because of tumors. I was crushed because my mom sent me to my grandma's and only told me what happened once the deed was done. I was really sore about that for a long time. I have no idea how my mom came by the spelling of his name, but the vet needed a spelling and I wasn't old enough to know how to spell, so mom came up with that. It's pronounced: Suki. Soo-key.
Sukyi and my brother Ken:
Garfield was a rescue kitty. A black longhair who never really got over whatever happened to him before he came to us. He was really skittish and hated being held. You can tell I was a kid when I named him. How did I imagine this skinny, unfriendly black kitty deserved a name like Garfield?
Me and Garfield:
Then came Lamborghini. He was a really hyperactive orange tabby. He could jump almost as high as I was tall. He met his end when he tangled with a coyote... or at least that's what the neighbors said...
Lambo as an old man:
Calvin and his brother, Hobbes were adopted from a neighbor whose cat had an unexpected litter. Calvin was my boy: a grey tabby who was ridiculously neurotic. Calvin had to have an abcessed tooth removed at one point and the vet thought he would act a little more... normal... after that, but he was always a strange cat. In his old age, he peed on one of my roommates for no apparent reason. Poor guy was just sitting on the couch and Calvin came along, rubbed against the back of his head a couple times and then peed on him!
Hobbes lived with my grandparents, where he learned to fetch cat toys and was spoiled rotten. He was a serious fat lap kitty.
Hobbes disappeared one day as my grandparents were preparing for a trip. We think he may have met a coyote as well. Calvin died of poisoning if you ask me, but I can't prove it.
Hobbes. Note the awesome stone cat in the background. That cat used to trip out my grandparents' house guests something fierce.
Sushi was found wandering around my high school. I attempted to find his owner, but in the end, he became my big furry buddy. He was part siamese, part tabby and he insisted on being the center of attention.
I was stupid and surrendered him to the humane society when I was dating a guy who was allergic. Should have kept the cat...
Misty was my grandpa's cat, but she lived with me for a while when my grandpa was recovering from his heart surgery. I had given Misty to my grandpa the Christmas after my grandma died because he was so lonely. Misty was a sweet kitty. She also scratched and bit the hell out of me when she got her leg caught in something during the time she lived with me. Cat bites are not awesome. After grandpa died, she went on to a new home, which she eventually disappeared from.
Fluffy was a stray that adopted me. He was another one who was adopted out after my grandpa died because I was living in a condo. He was another big, lovey drooly thing.
Fluffy and my cousin at grandpa's house (note the signature wallpaper):
Midnight was my last kitty. She came with our house. The previous owner left a note and half a bag of cat food, asking that we keep feeding their feral cat. Midnight had a hard life, but she was okay being held as long I didn't move suddenly. About a year and a half ago, she stopped coming up to our porch and sleeping in the crate we had for her there. We think she probably met a coyote as well.
You might disagree with some of my decisions regarding my former furry friends. I know there are a lot of people who have problems with cat owners who let their animals roam the neighborhood. The reason I had indoor/outdoor cats is because for the most part, my mother thought cats should be free to roam. And so they did.
Would I get another cat? Yes, if I could. Having someone in the household who is allergic, I have to respect their need for a cat-free environment. I'm not a dog person, but that's what we have. A great big, stupid home protection system. His name is Mack and I would have had it with him a long time ago had he not alerted us to the creepy drunk woman who was tapping on our windows in the middle of the night about a year ago. I thought he was going to lick her to death when we let him outside that night!