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Sigh was born in Fremont, California.
One day I was walking home, and her whole litter started
following me. Her siblings gave up rather quickly, but Sigh had
the good judgement to follow me all the way home, almost a whole
mile. I only helped her across the street once. |
She was such a little bitty thing, and I could hold her in
one hand. She quickly exhibited a fondness for burrowing into
things, and bedcovers are a particular favorite. Before she grew
to be too big for my britches, she was especially fond of hanging
out in my overalls:
 |
Sigh in the heyday of stonewashed denim. (See? Even my bike is
wearing a stonewashed denim hat.) |
Her tabby point markings make her the scum of the earth and
technically not Siamese, according to the type of people who
hang out in official Siamese Cat Fancier circles and care about
such things. She acts the way a Siamese is reputed to act,
though. I've even taken her out on walks with a leash.
(Sigh died in April, 2004.) |
|
|
Muffy and Adam, my housemates, had a wonderful cat named
Death (at left,
guarding
our webserver). He looks especially adorable when
sleeping with Muffy (or perhaps he's just basking in
her adorability). His name notwithstanding, he was mostly
quite lively for most of his long life, before meeting his
maker in 2006.
They also had a sweet little kitty named
Bright. Like her adopted siblings, she was a
greeting card star. I used to play with her every morning.
I'll never forget how she helped protect the ol' homestead
from an unplugged
waffle iron. She died in 2002. |
 |
A co-worker was being forced to evict her cat, so I took
him home. He immediately impressed us all with his grace and
his determination to befriend his unfriendly adopted sibling.
We named him Kemosabe. |
Kemo is a native of Nashua, New Hampshire. He used to bring
me home an assortment of New England wildlife, including dead
bats and live snakes. He adapted pretty well to the California
lifestyle, except when this entailed being drenched by a
mini-tidal wave from a swimming pool during the 1989
earthquake. |
The photo on the right shows Kemo and Sigh behind
bars, for their own good. They're glaring at the cars that made
it necessary for them to stay inside (really!). Luckily, the
backyard was boxed in by an entire block of Victorian houses:
a car-free zone that they could enjoy.
Kemo died in 1998, and I miss him very much. He was a most
remarkable cat: very intelligent and capable. Extremely
capable. He could make me understand him (sort of like Lassie).
His paws were polydactyl, and sometimes I suspected him of
having opposable thumbs. He's managed to open doors that had
smooth, round doornknobs.
Did you ever see the early
Mr. Boffo strip,
depicting cats with hands? That's the sort of thing he was
constantly amazing me with.
He lived with me in San Francisco, keeping watch over the
backyard. The turf situation there is exactly as depicted in
one of the first Fluff comic
strips.
At times our turf was encroached upon by a black and white cat,
whose youth and agility were ultimately no match for Kemo's use
of strategy. It finally gave up when a bluejay would harrass
it whenever it came near our turf. I can't even begin to figure
out how Kemo managed an alliance with a bluejay, but if anyone
could do it, he could. |
 |
Pooky was born in Worcester, Massachusetts --
just like Abbie Hoffman. I have to admit that she's caused a
little less trouble than Abbie in her time. |
As you can see in the photo on the right, a black & white
Pooky looks just as good as a Pooky in color. (Eagle-eyed but
trendy readers of this page have asked me whether the shoes in
this photo are a pair of Vans. They are in fact a Spanish brand
named Eyas. This photo was taken in 1988, proving that Pooky's
tastes are years ahead of everyone else's.)
This is an embarassing thing to admit, but her name was
inspired by a
Garfield poster that I had on my bedroom door.
My bedroom at the time was a side storage closet in a Worcester
attic, and I'd found a little poster at the local mall,
featuring Garfield and his teddy bear Pooky, with the caption,
"I Keep My Affections in the Closet." My closet was, of
course, an affectionate place. (The poster is a rather
surreal piece of Garfield merchandise, I'd say, considering
how ... Republican ... Garfield turned out to be.)
I never really found out exactly what kind of cat she is.
One school of thought is that she's a Maine Coon, except that
she's smaller than Maine Coons tend to be. Some think she's a
Javanese.
Pooky was last seen in Oakland, California, having moved to
a home that doesn't have a Siamese cat in it. |
|
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Bip was found in a dumpster in Lowell, Massachusetts.
We nursed him back to health and named him after the sound that
some humans make when they patted him on the head. His full and
formal name was "Bipna," but we never called him that. |
He was an exceptionally affectionate cat. He was run over by
a speeding motorist in Berkeley, California. One year too late,
the city put in a speed hump at the exact location where he was
run over. |
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| Bill
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_ __/|
\`O_o'
=(_ _)= - Ack! Phttpt!! Nyet!!!
U
|
I once housed a stray cat and named him Bill.
He was duly offended and left before I could even take a picture
of him. He looked nothing at all like the ASCII representation
here. |
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![[Text]](../icons/imc-text.gif){kind=icon}
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