Cats have been a part of my life since the summer after my fourth birthday.
My mother came home from the local farmers’ market with two small fur balls who had the audacity to peer out at her from a laundry basket, and Mittens and Tinkerbell came into our lives.
Sadly, Tinkerbell the tortoiseshell had an unfortunate encounter with the large brown Boxer/Great Dane mix already in residence at the house on Westminster Place and was not with us long.
On the other hand, Mittens, the dapper gentleman in the gray and white tuxedo, was a member of the family for twenty-one years.
Since the arrival of those first two, many cats have passed through my life and the lives of my family and friends.
The current feline resident of my little house on Water Street is Minerva – a resplendent, although perhaps bordering on rotund, black longhair completely at peace with her surroundings and welcoming to anyone who might come to bask in her majestic cuteness. She’s only trying to look fierce in this picture.
In honor of furry family past and present, I feel compelled to share the following two postings. As a word of caution, the first is quite heartbreaking, and if you aren’t at least sniffling by the end, you are made of stern, inhuman stuff. On the bright side, the second link provides something of an antidote, so I invite you to read and enjoy and remember and perhaps hug your own furry friends a little closer.
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