The family had a couple cats and dogs over my first 10 years of life, but in my teen years, we really didn't have either (brother and I had Guinea Pigs and mom had a Parrot).

I always fancied myself a dog person. But, at the ripe old age of 26, I finally settled in an area where I new I wouldn't travel much (in the military) and could committ to pets. Couldn't get a dog because I worked long night shifts. A friend (also in the military at the time) had a couple cats and convinded me to get cats. He was also a neighbor and we reasoned we could check in on eachother's pets if we had to travel suddenly for work or anything.

So, I worked with the SPCA to stay open an hour late one night and went to pick up a grey kitten just like my family used to have. Well, they told me of a friendly one year old orange cat who would be put down that night (Pookey) and I couldn't say no. Took him without meeting him. As I was walking out, they said he had a brother from the same litter (also being put down that night), so I said, sure, and took him sight unseen (Stanley). They threw him in for free.

The vet bill the first two weeks was $300 to get them thru URIs. Pookey was on his last leg and almost died...

The rest is history. Amazing cats. Totally different personalities. Been with me in my 20s, 30s, and now 40s (41 next month).
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Tammy
Stanley and Pookey

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