Cats I Have Known
Our first family cat was Snap. Technically, I think he was my brother’s cat, but we all loved him. He was a sturdy black tabby tomcat. In those days, we didn’t think about neutering our pets or keeping them indoors. He would go out every spring and be gone for about a week, romancing all the lady cats he could find and fighting with other toms.
Here I am with Snap, in a photo dated May, 1963. I would have been around 11. I have no idea how old Snap would have been. I can’t really remember when or how we got him, it just seems like he was always there.
Whiskers was my first cat. This picture was also taken in May, 1963. Yes, that is a poodle skirt I’m wearing.
We thought Whiskers was probably Snap’s son, although we couldn’t know for sure. They looked a lot alike, and got along well, as you can see. Unlike many toms, Snap liked little kittens and would occasionally bring some home to us. Whiskers was one we decided to keep.
I got Kitty somewhere around 6th to 8th grade, I don’t remember exactly. A classmate asked if anyone wanted a kitten. I said I did. Presumably there was some conversation between our parents. All I remember is my friend and her mother driving up to our house, handing me a kitten, saying, “Here’s your cat,” and driving away. She told us the kitten was purebred Siamese, but not registered. Presumably not show quality, or she wouldn’t have been free, but I never cared about that. I loved her to bits! She was a fussy little diva, typical Siamese, very opinionated and talkative. She was my best friend throughout junior high and high school and beyond.
She always had to be the center of attention.
After I graduated from high school, I bummed around for about a year before returning home to go to community college. Somewhere along the way, someone gave me a tiny little orange ball of energy we named O.J. He grew up to be this behemoth, sixteen pounds of muscle and fur. Note how broad his chest is.
O.J. was the sweetest, friendliest cat ever. He loved everything and everybody: people, other cats, rabbits, dogs, horses. He had a purr you could hear from across the room, and a tiny, squeaky little meow. When I moved back home I brought O.J. with me. Kitty was appalled and offended. He ran right up to her to try to make friends. She hissed and growled and retreated under the bed and wouldn’t come out until O.J. had been banished to the garage. He was content to be the outdoor kitty while she ruled the house.
When I moved away to go to university, I left Kitty and O.J. at home with my parents. O.J. died a year or so later, the victim of someone who was poisoning neighborhood cats. Kitty lived on to be around 16 years old, always happy to see me when I came home on breaks. My mom said Kitty would start waiting by the door a couple of days before I arrived, somehow knowing I would be home soon. She always greeted me like the old friend she was.
Living cat-free at university, I discovered that the constant runny nose and cough I’d been suffering for years was a severe allergy to cats I’d developed. I didn’t have another cat until I moved to Tehachapi over twenty years later, and found that a cat came with the house I’d bought on the mountain. My allergies had gotten better over the years, and I was very happy to be able to have cats again.
