My grandmother gave me Ming kitty, an applehead Siamese for my 3d birthday, and we had him for 19 years. My parents have always had cats, but I married a dog man. For months after we were married, I asked him for a cat, but he said no, then,,,,
One cold December day I was bringing groceries in the house, and this scrawny gray cat followed me in (he swears I laid a trail of hamburger), sat next to the gas log in the kitchen and said "I am home". We had her for the next 16 years. She went to the bridge 3 days before Christmas,and he was heartbroken. A month went by with no litter boxes to clean, and I started suggesting getting another cat. Nope. Then one crappy Saturday they had a cat show on the idiot box,and out of the blue he said "I want a Maine coon, find one". Many phone calls later we found Kasha about an hour away from our house. Now she is my cat.
Smiggle was a tiny, scrawny (why are strays always starving?) gray kitten who jumped on hubby's lap, wrapped herself around his neck and purred. Mind you, he loves Kasha but still considered himself a dog person. After one day, he said "do you think I should keep her in the garage to keep her safe?". Yup. A day or two later, it was "Do you think we should take her to the vet?" Yup. Now he is a cat man. Smig is still in the garage (his workshop) as she and Kasha dont play well, and goes outside on a leash when he works in the garden. That tiny kitten the vet said was 10 months old and would not get very big because of her malnourishment (she was a week or 2 away from the Bridge) now is a heafty 13 lbs.

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