This is the top page consisting of links to pictures and stories about the cats in my life. Not all of the cats shown here are mine. Some belonged to neighbors and one was a stray. Short stories are to the right. Eventually, there will be full stories posted for all the cats in links under the pictures.

Sambo was my first cat and came into my life in the spring of 1960 when I was six years old. He was from a litter of kittens that a neighbor's cat had. I vaguely remember that my parents let me choose which kitten of the litter I wanted. I wish I could remember what it was about him that drove my choice. Sambo was mostly white and had splotches of tan and was about ten weeks old. Sambo was an outdoor only cat and not neutered and often left for a few days before returning. In the spring of 1967 (or maybe 1968) he returned home after having been away for about three weeks and was very ill. That was the longest he had ever been away and after school I would go into the woods and look for him. I did what I could do to comfort him for several days and he seemed to be improving but was weak. I remember that it was a Sunday morning after returning from church that I tried to find him but couldn't. I looked for him for many days but never found him. I have always wondered what happened to him. I was sad for a long time and composed the main theme of one of my piano works, Elegy for a Pet (see my music page on this site), which was completed many years later. I often play that on my piano in memory of the many cats I had that have passed on.

Tiger was a male tabby who lived next door to me in Bessemer between the years of about 1969 and 1974. I wish I had a picture of him, but he resembles Teensy. I first met Tiger when he was a young cat that had just been adopted by my neighbor. He was lying on his back in their driveway enjoying a spring or summer morning in the sun. He did not know I was nearby and I tossed some tiny pebbles to land near him to watch him check out the noise. He saw me after several tosses and came over to greet me. We became great friends and played a lot together in the coming years. One of his favorite games was I would pull a souvenir woven leather whip that he loved to chase. I would sometimes tie him up with it and he had an amazing skill of quickly escaping. He loved doing that. Tiger would often wait for me at the back door wanting to play. My younger brother, Keith, had a dog named Hosea and Tiger would often nudge Hosea away from her food dish and eat her dinner. My neighbors move to a new home in the mid-1970s, and I never saw Tiger again. I have always remembered the great times we had together.

Spooky was a male black cat that an associate of mine found as a tiny black kitten in his carport one morning in Summer, 1987. He asked me if I would adopt the kitten and I agreed. Spooky was my first cat at my new house. Spooky was extremely playful and we had lots of fun. He loved to chase ping-pong balls down the hall. Early on I kept him in a spare bedroom with lots of toys. I could hear him playing wildly during the night. Soon I let him have free run of the house. He would sleep with me. On weekends when I slept late he would get on top of me and poke me in the face with his paw wanting me to get up and feed him breakfast. Spooky liked to go through my laundry basket and pull out socks to play with and carry those around the house. I took some worn out socks and stuffed them together for Spooky to have. For many years he used that as a pillow and would carry it around the house to wherever he wanted to sleep. I would take him outside when I worked in the yard and he would end up in a fight with a neighbor's cat and lose. He loved to hide in a bush and ambush and chase neighborhood dogs that passed by. For about three years, Spooky was and only cat and I felt that he was lonely, so I adopted a white kitten (Frisky) from his vet. Initially, Spooky hated that kitten. But as time went on, they became good friends and played together. Later in life they had a bad fight and were never friends again. Spooky was definitely the top cat and made sure the growing cat population in the house knew that. Spooky would often enter the den and let out a loud hiss - meaning all cats to vacate. They would except for Orbit. That would make Spooky really mad and he would end up swatting Orbit. Later in life Spooky developed cancer - multiple myeloma. I did everything I could for him, but it was hopeless. Spooky was a great cat that I always remember.

Frisky was a male white kitten that my vet gave me in the summer of 1990 to be a friend to Spooky. Frisky had been a stray kitten that someone rescued. Initially, Spooky just hissed and growled at Frisky but later they became good friends. Initially, Frisky did not know what to make of my house as this was all new to him. Frisky quickly settled and loved to play. He and Spooky would take turns playing chase. Two years later when I took in a new kitten, Itsy, Frisky and Itsy became friends and played together. Frisky was a shy cat and the growing cat population in the house gave him lots of stress as they would bully him. I finally had to move Frisky to the basement where he spent the rest of his life. He was happy and there was a window that overlooked the front garden so he could watch birds, chipmunks, and other critters. He liked to play fetch. I would toss one of his toys and he would bring it back to me. In those days I had a bed in the basement and slept there and Frisky always slept with me. He always seemed to be in the way in the mornings when I reached to shut of the alarm clock and so would get punched. I would sometimes take Frisky upstairs to visit in my office. He would get nervous when other cats came in. I wanted Frisky to be able to move back upstairs but that was just not to be. In old age Frisky developed kidney disease. I would give him sub-Q fluids to keep him well hydrated. The last week of his life he was not feeling well, and I took him to the vet on a Friday morning. On Saturday morning the vet called and said I should come as Frisky was dying. I comforted him petted him as he died. I miss Frisky. He was a very nice cat that adored me and knew that I had given him a great home. I remember a dream I had some years later where Frisky visited me and I petted him and he assured me that he was doing well.

Itsy was a female tortoiseshell cat that I bought in a pet shop in 1992 to be a friend to Frisky. I saw Itsy earlier that day in the pet shop and I liked her beautiful tortoiseshell colors. So, I went back later and bought her. Itsy had been part of an unwanted litter of kittens that were turned over to the pet shop. Itsy got her name because as a small kitten, she was tiny in comparison to Frisky and Spooky. Spooky's nickname was Big Puttytat, Frisky's was Little Puttytat and sometime Little Puttytat Junior. I would refer to Itsy as Itsy Puttytat so that became her name. Itsy was very happy in her new home. One of her favorite toys was an orange catnip carrot that she would carry all over the house, often meowing as she carried it. Itsy and Spooky became very good friends. Every night Itsy would sleep against my leg. Itsy developed a cough after a few years. We did not know what was causing it. It could be fairly bad at times, but she always seemed fine afterwards. Itsy needed her teeth cleaned so I made an appointment and took her to the vet in the morning on my way to work. I was at my desk at work that afternoon and a strange message came into my head, and the exact words were, "Itsy die." It was weird but I didn't think anything of it. But later when I went to my vet to pick up Itsy, he told me that Itsy had died while recovering from the anesthesia. It was a mystery as to why she died. I did a lot of research thinking it was something about the anesthesia but years later I figured out that the cough was most likely the result of heartworms, and another vet told me that a heartworm condition would be very risky with anesthesia. That evening I picked out a spot in my back yard to bury Itsy. Itsy was the first cat in a cemetery that now holds many cats. I surrounded her grave with rocks and planted flowers. I would visit her grave often. It is one thing to lose a cat that you know is elderly and sick but losing a healthy young cat is especially hard. Spooky missed Itsy and would often sit by the basement door in the den and watching where he would have seen her leave for the last time in the carrier. Here is the only recording I have of Itsy made on Oct. 29, 1994, when I was trying to record her meowing, but I had to hold her, and she did not like being held and so was complaining. I thought about Itsy for weeks afterwards trying to remember everything about her and write that down for a memoir. itsy.mp3

Susie was a female black cat born about 1988 that lived across the street from my parents' house. Susie would often come to visit my mother and they were great friends. Susie was incredibly intelligent and there was strong evidence that she understood human speech. One time Susie got on the roof of my mother's house and my mother told her, "Susie, you come down from there." Susie promptly got off the roof. Another time Susie was at my mother's house, and her owner called my mother on the telephone to see if Susie was there. When my mother said yes, her owner asked my mother to put the phone to Susie's ear. Her owner said, "Susie, you come home right now." Susie immediately went to the kitchen door wanting out. My mother let her out and Susie went home.

Orbit was a female tabby adopted as a stray in Northport, Alabama and was an older sister to Stubby. Orbit had unusually pointed ears and was a very easy-going cat. Orbit was very easy to pick up and pet. Orbit was a quiet and well-behaved cat that never caused any problems. She was a close companion to her younger sister, Stubby and they often slept together cuddled as you can see in some of the pictures. One nickname for Orbit was Orbit the Storbit although that was not used very much. Orbit often tangled with Spooky. Spooky would want to be where she was and give her hints to move but she never would. Spooky would finally swat her to make her move. I don't know if Orbit was stubborn or just not smart. The other cats except Teensy always respected Spooky without him having to threaten anything. Teensy wanted to be number one kitty cat and had several tangles with Spooky. Orbit was a good cat that loved to be petted and picked up and held and was easy to catch for vet appointments. Later in life Orbit developed a lung condition and had a hard time breathing. Eventually that ended her life.

Stubby was a female calico who had the same mother as Orbit in Northport, Alabama but was born in the next litter. Stubby and Orbit were very close friends throughout their lives and were always near each other. Stubby was very skittish and avoided being touched and really hated being held. She liked me a lot from a safe distance. Sometimes I could pet her and she seemed to like that at times but that was just not her nature. Later in life she developed a heart condition and had to take pills - impossible! I would grind the pills to a power and mix the dust with a tablespoon of corn oil which is a treat. I would have to do this in a separate room to keep the other cats who wanted it away. The whole time Stubby thought she was getting a treat rather than taking medicine. Catching Stubby to take her to vet appointments was always a challenge but I have developed a variety of skills for dealing with that over the years. Stubby had a nickname at times, Stubwub. Stubby was a very smart cat and could sense when I might be planning to catch her and then be as difficult as possible. When Orbit died, Stubby was without her favorite companion. Stubby did okay and slept in various spots including the window perch in my office. She became more open to petting. Stubby lived a very good life and knew she was loved - just from a distance she preferred. Her heart condition eventually ended her life. She is buried in my backyard next to Orbit.

Teensy was a male tabby who had the same mother as Orbit and Stubby but was born later - around the end of April 1995. He was found on Memorial Day in Northport as a tiny kitten abandoned by his mother to die as he was in terrible condition. He was brought to my house, and I did not think he would live through the night, but I did all I could for him. He had no use of his back legs and was filthy. I put him on an electric blanket to keep him warm and tried feeding him small amounts of canned food on a teaspoon which he eagerly ate. I took him to my vet the next morning and my vet thought there was not much use, but I wanted to try the best. When I picked him up that evening after work, my vet told me that there was no reason for the kitten to be alive but there he was hobbling around on the table, seemingly happy as he drug his back legs. The vet showed me a sample of his blood, and it was brown. He was very malnourished and had a bad infection. The plan was that I would take him home in the evenings to care for him and bring him back to the vet in the mornings so they could take care of him. He became known as the miracle kitten. After about two weeks the vet said that he was going to make it but that he would never be a large cat as his initial growth had been so stunted. I named him Teensy. I did physical therapy with Teensy to get him to use his back legs. I would hold him vertically and move him backwards which made him use his legs in reverse. Going forward he just drug them. Teensy did not like this but he gained strength in his back legs, and they fully recovered so well that Teensy was the highest jumping cat in the house. Teensy also defied the vet and grew up to be a normal size cat. Teensy enjoyed a great life at my house. Later in life he had to take a lot of daily pills, and he was very cooperative, which made that easy. Near the end of his life, he apparently had a major stroke. He stayed still and ate little and never recovered. For me it was very rewarding knowing that my efforts with him paid off and thanks to me he lived well. I did not give up on him as a pitiful kitten when others might have.

Fluffy was a male Manx cat that I found outside my house as a five week old kitten one morning in Fall, 1996. While getting dressed for work I kept hearing this weird squeaking sound outside like some animal was in distress. So, I went outside to check it before getting in my car and found a tiny kitten in my neighbor's driveway. It snarled when it saw me. I picked it up and took it inside. I checked around the neighborhood, but no one was missing a kitten. So, I decided to adopt him. His stubby Manx tail was fluffy, so I named him Fluffy. He was a very playful cat and loved batting milk carton rings, ice cubes, potholders, and anything he could get his paws on. He loved chasing the laser spot. Later, when I got Bitsy, they became good friends. Fluffy was very into treats. When I tossed one for the cats, Fluffy was very skilled at getting to it first. I had a lion hand puppet that I used to play with the cats. I used it when Fluffy was a kitten and he had a lot of fun mauling it. Fluffy adopted that puppet as his friend and would carry it around the house and use it as a pillow to sleep on. Fluffy had a variety of nicknames and a favorite one was Put-Tat. Fluffy loved Chilli Cheese Fritos and insisted that I give him some. Fluffy adored me and was always around me. He knew and appreciated that I gave him a great home. Fluffy was a very entertaining cat and we had lots of fun together. Fluffy developed kidney problems in his last year of life and made many trips to the vet for sub-Q fluids. It was later determined that he had kidney stones. Fluffy died from complications in surgery to remove the stones. He was so young and had so many great years ahead. Fluffy is buried with the other cats in my backyard. Twice in the two weeks since he died, Fluffy visited me in a dream. In both cases, Fluffy was a kitten of about 12 weeks and would act cute by running from me but letting me catch him and then purring as I petted him. In the dreams, I was aware that he was really dead and was amazed to be seeing him. But it felt good to be holding and petting him. I will forever miss my little Put-Tat.

Bitsy was a female tortoiseshell cat I adopted from a local pet shop on Nov. 21, 1998, to pick up where Itsy left off. One day after Itsy died I was at the pet shop picking up food and litter. Out of curiosity I looked at some of the cats they had for adoption and saw one that closely resembled Itsy. She was a young cat that had been rescued as a stray and was nursing her kittens. Every other Saturday when I went for supplies, I would check on this cat and note the progress of her kittens. After her kittens had all been adopted, she was available for adoption. By this time, I felt that I really knew the cat, so I adopted her. In honor of Itsy, I named her Bitsy. Bitsy has many of the attributes of Itsy and keeps things lively in the house just as Itsy did. Bitsy was a very prickly cat - she liked for everything to be just so or she would fuss. She often would swat the other cats to let off built up frustration. She got the nickname putty-tat rougher upper as her main thing to do was to rough up the other putty tats any time something did not please her. The other cats would steer clear of her as they thought her to be a nut. She became good friends with Slinky and Tiger. Bitsy was a very vocal cat and had a large vocabulary of various meows for different situations. Bitsy was an indoor only cat, and I planned to have her spayed but so much was going on that that got put off for a couple of years. I did not know at the time that created a risk of mammary cancer which Bitsy later developed. After many trips to the vet with health issues the diagnosis was cancer. The vet removed a large tumor and for a while Bitsy was better. At a recheck a few weeks later the vet discovered countless small tumors. Bitsy was doomed. One medial theory that my primary vet (as well as various human doctors) had was that a dominant tumor puts out suppressors in the blood stream to keep other tiny tumors from growing. Those suppressors end when the dominant tumor is removed and then there is explosive tumor growth. I brought Bitsy home and all that could be done now was hospice care. I did all I could for Bitsy as she became weaker but still maintaining high spirit. One evening after giving her a pill and feeding the other cats and eating dinner myself, I found Bitsy dead in the living room. She was laying on the floor stretched out as if sleeping normally. I buried her that evening with the other cats. The house was now very quiet without her frequent meowing. Bitsy adored me and knew I gave her a good home. I will never forget the many good times we had together.

Kitty was a friendly male solid black cat and belongs to a neighbor across the street. He used to come over to visit starting in the late 1990s often because I fed him and he apparently liked my cat food better than his owner's. We became good friends.

My last memories are that I saw Kitty sitting in his usual place on the patio patiently waiting for me at about 7:30 Friday morning, December 21, 2001, when I briefly got up to get something to drink. I was too sleepy to feed him, so I went back to bed. Later that morning when I got up, I looked for him, but he was away. Friday night I saw a large truck parked at his house across the street. I learned on Saturday afternoon that they were moving away. So, I would never see Kitty again. I regretted not feeding him that morning. I instinctively looked for him any time I looked out the patio window. Sometimes I thought I saw him, but it was false. Thursday morning December 27, I again looked out and this time I saw a definite black shape running to the patio. It was Kitty! I made sure he saw me so he would know that I would be out to feed him shortly. I fed him a lot. He was glad to see me, and I petted him a lot before going to work. Sometimes you get a second chance to say good-bye. I did not see Kitty again until Saturday afternoon, Jan. 5, 2002, I was leaving for the grocery store and saw him on the sidewalk as I pulled out. I lowered the window and told him that when I got back, I would feed him. He meowed at me and then turned around and started to walk away. I looked for him when I got back but he was not around. That was the last time I would see Kitty. I found out later that his owner had finally completed the move.

Scaredy Cat was an adorable gray elderly male cat that came to live with me the last year of his life. Scaredy had been a stray (but previously owned) cat at an apartment complex. A guy there fed and took care of and became friends with Scaredy who was very shy -- thus the name. But his fiancé was allergic to cats so Scaredy had to find a new home. I agreed to take Scaredy in. Scaredy was a very quiet cat and never caused any trouble. He knew I gave him a good home, and I could sense his appreciation. Scaredy had arthritis in his back legs which made walking and jumping up on furniture a bit difficult but Scaredy always got around. All the other cats became good friends, and he seemed overwhelmed at how much he was liked as he was not used to that as a stray. As an elderly cat, his life was very sedentary and he slept a lot. He liked to watch the other cats play but never made any attempt to join in. He loved to lie in the morning sun in the living room. At times I would take him outside as I worked in the yard. He preferred being indoors but later took an interest in exploring the woods in my back yard. Scaredy had increasing health problems in his final year. He had bouts of constipation and generally not feeling well and occasionally fluid buildup. But his spirit was always high. I took him to a special clinic in Auburn and after trying various things to see what might help. The next day, they called me to come pick him up and do hospice care at home as there was nothing they could do. It was about a two-hour drive and Scaredy was uncomfortable and made complaining meows in the pet carrier in the front passenger seat in my car. About two-thirds of the way home, Scaredy began having a minor fit. He sat up and meowed emphatically, and his head had an up and down tremor. When I petted him, he rubbed his head against the carrier door sniffing and rubbing my hand as intensely and affectionately as he could. He pressed his forehead against my hand through the carrier door. He then settled down. I now think that he realized that he was not going to make it and this was his way of thanking me for all I had done for him and saying goodbye. He was alive when we arrived at my house and I set up a comfortable spot in the living room for him. He did not seem to be conscious. I called his previous owner to tell him about Scaredy and invited him to come visit. But Scaredy breathed his last about fifteen minutes before he arrived. We talked about what a great cat Scaredy was. I do not think there has ever been a more cooperative cat. I heard many good comments from the vets and assistants about what a good patient Scaredy was and how he remained sweet and adorable in spite of painful and uncomfortable things they had to do to him. Scaredy is buried in my backyard with the other cats. At least the last three and a half years of his life were good ones that he really enjoyed. If there is a lesson from Scaredy Cat, it is to love everyone and make the most of life despite whatever handicap you have. Scaredy Cat lived this philosophy every day. Scaredy is gone but he was a special cat that I will always remember.

Slinky was a male long-haired black cat with a bushy tail that came to live with me with his close friend and litter mate, Squeaky, on December 8, 2001. They had been owned by an elderly lady who had to go to the nursing home, and her son abandoned the cats. A work associate of mine rescued the cats and asked if I would take them in. I agreed. They were young cats, not fully grown. For a short time, I kept them in my large cage which was in the living room at the time so that they and the other cats could become acclimated. Those cats would play wildly during the day and make a total mess of the cage - but they had a lot of fun. When I let them have free run of the house, they had a great time. Slinky got his name because he would often slink around the house. They were both high gusto cats into everything. They actively played with anything, especially the laser spot. Slinky loved to sleep next to me at night. After a while, Slinky assumed the position of top cat. He and Bitsy became good friends and slept together. He would often instigate various troubles with the other cats and that finally led to him terrorizing the cats by late 2009. I would keep Slinky in the large cage in the den for there to be peace and Slinky seemed happy in there. But when I let him out it would typically be only about five minutes before he was back to terrorizing. That grew increasingly worse until I finally had to move Slinky to the basement in early 2010. Slinky adapted well to being the only cat in the basement. He had a lot of room and toys and a window perch. I slept in the basement in those days and Slinky slept beside me. He loved to play wrestling games before I turned the lights out. He had a favorite purple octopus toy that he would carry around. I would take him back upstairs for visits, but it would not be long before he started terrorizing again. I really believe he did it for fun and to show that he was top cat. His brother, Squeaky, missed him and figured out that by terrorizing the other cats too that he would be sent to wherever Slinky was. By mid-2010, Squeaky joined Slinky in the basement. They did well together and both slept with me at night. In 2016, Squeaky started having constipation problems which eventually led to the discovery that he had intestinal cancer. Squeaky died in October and Slinky would spend time roaming the basement and meowing trying to find his brother and best friend. Slinky was now the only cat again in the basement. I would still bring him upstairs at times. In early June of 2017, Slinky started having constipation problems and some other health issues - not eating, becoming dehydrated and needing fluids, and not feeling well. I moved Slinky back upstairs since he was too weak to terrorize the other cats. Slinky was happy being upstairs and I could give him more attention. He would make many trips to the vet over the next number of weeks. In August, he was diagnosed with intestinal cancer and chemotherapy was started. During September and October, Slinky improved and was eating and gaining weight. But he started going down fast in November. It hurt him to pick him up and he would cry out. In late November he could not move his tail and had trouble with his back legs. In early December he seemed to be deaf. Over the next week he had some good times and even played with the laser spot. When I came home from work one afternoon it appeared that he apparently had a major stroke and was totally lost. So, I took him to the vet to end his suffering. I brought him home and set him up in my office on a brown towel to lie in repose for the night and so that the other cats could see him and know that he is gone. The next morning, I buried him next to Squeaky. Slinky's spirit is now with his brother and best friend, Squeaky. I am sure they are very happy now that they are back together. I am glad that Slinky got to spend the last six months of his life upstairs with the other cats. I have no doubt that he really enjoyed that. Smokey accepted him from the beginning and was his friend and they often slept together. Slinky and I had always been very close, but we became even closer during the last months. Slinky knew that I was taking very good care of him and he adored me as much as possible. I have no doubt that he understood. He often was my shadow following me all over the house. He loved to sit on my desk and watch me work at the computer. He spent many hours sleeping on my desk or my chair. That is where I would often find him when I came home. When he got too weak to jump on my desk he would sit by my feet. He was always close to me. He loved it when I petted him and he returned much affection. Slinky and Squeaky were the best purring cats I ever had. We had so much fun together and I miss them very much.

Squeaky was a male white and black cat that came to live with me along with his close friend and litter mate, Slinky, on December 8, 2001. I gave him this name because he squeaked instead of meowing. He specialized in being the cutest cat of all. If Squeaky could talk he might say, "I may not be very smart, but I make up for it by being extra cute. I am the world's cutest kitty cat." Squeaky and Slinky were a pair and always together. Squeaky was a very playful cat and particularly loved chasing the laser spot. Squeaky was a very close friend to his brother, Slinky, and they played and slept together. We had a lot of fun. Slinky started terrorizing the other cats and eventually I had to move him to the basement. Squeaky missed Slinky. I would bring Slinky upstairs to visit but after a while he would start terrorizing a cat. So, he would have to go back to the basement. Squeaky wanted to be with Slinky and figured out that if he started terrorizing the cats that he would be moved to the basement too. So much unlike his easy-going character he began terrorizing the cats. Bitsy never liked him and would often attack him. Then Squeaky began attacking Bitsy. Finally, I moved Squeaky to the basement in late spring 2010 to have peace. Slinky and Squeaky were now together again and friends. In those days I slept in the basement and both Squeaky and Slinky would sleep beside me. They were happy and we played a lot. In the summer of 2016, Squeaky started having constipation problems and made a number of trips to the vet. He was also losing weight. Nothing seemed to be helping him. Possible intestinal cancer was suspected. The vet suggested exploratory surgery to possibly correct an intestinal blockage as a mass was detected on X-ray. So the next day I took Squeaky back to the vet. If this mass was not cancerous and not too bad then Squeaky would be able to eat again, gaining back the weight he lost, and continue living a great life. I had high hopes for Squeaky. When I arrived at the vet that afternoon after work to pick up Squeaky, the vet told me that she discovered that his intestine was completely closed and sealed. There was nothing that could be done but end Squeaky's suffering. It was too dark to dig a grave, so I buried Squeaky the next evening after work. I think back and remember all the fun times we had together. Squeaky was such a sweet cat that adored me.

PC was a wonderful cat who lived his final years in luxury at my house. PC which stands for Perfect Cat (or Purrfect Cat) was an elderly male cat who came to spend the last twenty-eight months of his life with my cats and me. PC had been a dear cat of some people who lived not far from me, but their young son was allergic to cats, so PC had to find a new home. Through an interesting connection of someone they knew who knew someone who knew me, they were able to ask if I would give PC a home. I agreed and on the evening of May 26, 2005, they brought PC to move in. For a few days I put PC in the large cage in my den so he and the other cats could become acclimated. There was a large round hut in the cage that PC loved being in. The next evening, I let PC out for a while to explore the house. There was the usual hissing and growling when there is a new cat but no aggression. After a week of PC staying in the cage at night and when I was away there was no point anymore, so PC had free run of the house. He soon adopted a cat bed on top of the refrigerator as his primary sleeping spot. He also adopted other sleeping spots around the house - the living room sofa, the den sofa, and the bed. PC very quickly recognized me as the one who took care of him. PC developed a lot of affection for me. He would often sit or sleep next to me on the sofa as I read the paper or watched something on television. PC would follow me around the house. Wherever I was, that is where PC wanted to be. PC would often sleep around my chair in my office when I was working on the computer. He also liked to sleep in the corner of my office. For the first year PC was very active and loved to play. He would play with and swat various cat toys I got out. He would run through the house at top speed jumping up on the kitchen counter and then on top of the refrigerator and then jumping down and running to the other end of the house sometimes meowing loudly when he was on top of something. He had a small coordination problem with his back legs, so his running had an odd appearance. This may have been a symptom of things to come with his later neurological problems. In the spring of 2006, PC began having health problems - not eating and difficulty urinating. He made a number of trips to the vet and periods when he was fine and other periods when he did not feel well. Some neurological problems start showing up in December as he began circling. He would walk in circles for a brief period and then be normal. PC mostly did well, eating fine at times and not eating as much at other times. His circling gradually became worse although he could always walk around the house. An interesting thing was that when he was very happy about dinner being served or me tossing treats, his circling became very intense. I gave him the nickname, Circly. In May of 2007, I adopted a young stray kitten, Tiger. Tiger took an immediate interest in PC and stayed with him. Tiger was a tiny kitten, and PC was a large cat. Tiger would try to tackle PC in play. PC would humor Tiger and let him have fun. They became good friends. I think Tiger invigorated PC as PC's condition improved. Later in the year PC would have brief seizures about every other day. By late September, PC's mental condition was worsening. On the evening of Oct. 5, PC was having a bad time. He was interested in eating, and I put warm food for him, but he just fell into it but could lick it if I held him. He was fading mentally and becoming less responsive. Before I went to bed, I put him in a cat bed that had been his in his former life and positioned him to be comfortable. Tiger checked him out. I had a feeling that his time was about up. I got up the next morning and found that he had died recently as he was still a bit warm. Most likely PC either had a brain tumor or a series of strokes. In the last year of his life he could no longer be perfect, but he certainly tried his best. The vets and vet techs often commented on what an easy patient PC was. He was the easiest cat I ever gave pills to. He never ran and hid when it was time to go to the vet. He always cleaned his plate. PC really tried hard to not let his handicap prevent him from getting around and being as normal as possible. PC is buried with the other cats in my backyard. He remained in high spirit throughout. That is quite an inspiration for all of us. PC truly lived up to his name to his last day. I will always remember Perfect Cat.

Tiger was a ~six-week-old male kitten found on the UAB Campus in Birmingham in late May 2007. If Tiger could talk, he would probably say, "I may look like a cute kitty cat, but I am really a furocious tiger." He was known as Tiger the ferocious. Tiger was the most hissy cat ever in the house. He hissed at the other cats all the time when they annoyed him. Some nicknames were Tiger the Weiger, TigeWeiger, and Tiger Weiger. He would often look at me and in his eyes, I could see him thinking, "Me wonders about you. You are not like a putty-tat but me likes you anyway. You give putty-tats a good home." Another thing I could sense him say was, "Me needs to practice my ferociousness." If I was late getting up on weekends, Tiger would typically poke me with his paw to get my attention. Tiger and Mitsy became very good friends and often slept together. As a young cat, Tiger loved to play fetch. In the den I would toss a spring toy and Tiger would bring it back to me. Tiger was incredibly smart and excelled at playing a complex game where I would put a feathery green squeak toy on top of a tall bookcase and Tiger would look at it and figure out the logistics of how to fetch it. A more complicated version that involved multiple strategic steps was that I would put it on top of the office door which was fully open and Tiger figured out how to push the door to almost closed so that he could jump up on top of a table and reach up and grab it. Tiger loved this game and we played it many, many times over the rest of his life. Tiger loved that game. I have never known another cat that smart. Tiger would also carry that squeak toy around the house. I bought a number of those toys as after a while he would wear them out. He loved to put it in his mouth and make it squeak. Tiger was just a little over one year old when I brought Smokey and Mitsy home as little kittens. I first gave them a bath in the kitchen to get rid of fleas and as Tiger saw them his face lit up as if to say, "Kittens! Oh boy. Just what I wanted." For a while I kept the kittens in the basement until they were able to move upstairs to be with the other cats. Tiger loved them. He groomed them, slept with them, and stayed with them. Misty would grow up to be Tiger's best friend and for the rest of Tiger's life they stayed together. They used to sleep cuddled together particularly in the cat bed on top of the refrigerator, but that seemed to have ended in his last few years. But Misty would sleep in near proximity to Tiger. Near the end of 2020, Tiger developed some kind of intestinal problem. Various treatments were not helping and my vet referred Tiger to a specialist which diagnosed cancer but could not say specifically what type it was. Tiger would have good periods where he seemed completely normal and other periods where he was not feeling well and not eating. His spirit was always high, and he would hiss at any cat that displeased him. He stayed in a crinkle cat bag in the living room a lot and Misty stayed just outside the bag with him. On the evening of August 12, Tiger seemed completely normal. On the morning of August 13, Tiger did not show up for breakfast. I found him in the living room by the tall scratching post, and he was breathing hard and in distress. I took him to the vet and told them that this was an emergency. I had to run some errands that morning but stopped at the vet on my way home to check on Tiger. Tiger was in very bad shape. His body temperature had fallen from 100 to under 94. He was dying. They brought him out an a large towel and set him on the table. He was lying on his left side and there was a catheter in in left paw where they had administered fluids. He had not been responsive in some time. I put my hand under his head as a pillow and Tiger immediately started purring. This was the first response he had made in a while. He surely recognized that it was my hand and was very glad it was there. Although Tiger was very much out of it he knew that was me and was happy. His eyelids responded as I stroked his head. He was very much enjoying the comfort I was providing in his dying moments. I called his name perhaps over a hundred times and told him was a good cat he was. Tiger was fading. His eyelids no longer responded to my fingers as I stroked his head. When it was time to apply euthanasia, I slid my hand out from under his head as my arm was in the way of his catheter and Tiger immediately reached out his right paw and put it on my wrist clearly wanting me to keep my hand under his head. We paused for a while as I continued petting Tiger and his paw and put my left fingers under his head. Even though he seemed to be just about gone he still could show that he liked and wanted me. I will always remember how special his last act was. It was his way of saying good-bye and thanks for giving him such a wonderful life. Tiger was such a special cat, and I miss him a lot.

Smokey is a gray male cat that I adopted as an eight-week-old kitten in June 2008 from a friend of mine who had been taking care of a stray mother cat and her kittens. Smokey and Mitsy are littermates and I initially kept them in my basement for a few weeks before moving them upstairs to be with the other cats. Smokey is the most laid-back cat I have ever known. In old age now he has to take some pills and the easiest way to catch him is to grab his tail and then pick him up. He does not get mad like most any cat would when I do this. Giving him the pill is incredibly easy. Nicknames I commonly use include Smokus Wokus, Smoke Woke, Smokey the Wokey, and Smokey kittycat. At the crack of dawn every morning, Smokey begins meowing loudly for breakfast. He will get right in my face and meow as loud as he can (he is very loud) trying to get me up. The other cats, particularly Snugglie and Mitsy also join in meowing. I make them wait until my normal time to get up. I figure if I get up early for them, then they will start meowing even earlier and earlier. In his younger years, Smokey loved to chase the laser spot and would just about climb the wall to the ceiling to get it. In old age he will respond for a short time and then just watch. One thing Smokey would do when a bit younger was just after I would go to bed he would run rapidly back and forth from one end of the house to the other and meow a lot. Sometimes he will attack the other cats while doing this. He would sometimes do that in the mornings just before I would get up. Smokey loves to lick the remnants of corn oil on the spoon in the sink after I make popcorn. In his younger years, he loved to eat unsalted popcorn kernels that I tossed along with the other cats. In old age he will maybe eat one or two. His two favorite sleeping spots are by the living room window in the mornings as the sun shines in and on the cat bed on top of the refrigerator in the afternoons. Smokey and Sparkie have been good friends for a long time and sleep together and groom each other. Smokey does not like being held and is not really into being petted although he will purr for a brief time while I hold him anyway and some brief petting seems to be fine. In his older age he lets me hold him more and he purrs more. Smokey adores me and will sit with me particularly when I take a nap.

Mitsy is a tortoiseshell female cat that I adopted as an eight-week-old kitten in June 2008 from a friend of mine who had been taking care of a stray mother cat and her kittens. Smokey and Mitsy are littermates and I initially kept them in my basement for a few weeks before moving them upstairs to be with the other cats. Mitsy is a very shy cat and generally stays by herself. In her younger years she was all around the house and very playful but was not much into being petted and particularly disliked being held. Mitsy was a close friend of Tiger and they often slept together. Nicknames I have used include Mitsy Witsy, Mitsy the Witsy, Mitsus, Mitsus Witsus, and maybe some others. In her older years, she made my bedroom office her exclusive home and only comes out for breakfast and dinner in the kitchen. Her favorite place to sleep is on the window perch in my office. In the winter she loves to sleep by the heating vent enjoying the warm air. She spends a lot of time grooming. In contrast to her younger years, in old age she loves being petted and purrs when I hold her and looks at me with adoration in her eyes. She emphatically meows for attention meaning she wants to be petted. I pet her often and give her treats. She is very happy and loves to watch me work in my office.

This was a new cat in the neighborhood that I saw chasing chipmunks in my neighbor's yard. I do not know whose cat it was. It was skittish and I was unable to make friends with it. On the morning of Oct. 19, 2017, before going to work when I went out the basement door to get the Wall Street Journal, I saw this cat behind the large garbage container just outside the door. I went back inside and put some cat kibble on a small plate and took it outside and put it down. From inside my basement, I could see the cat eating. When I arrived home in the afternoon, I saw that most of the kibble was still there. Any normal cat would have eaten all of it. I looked behind the large garbage container and found the cat dead as you see in the picture. This was a young cat that I had seen being very active. My theory is that it probably tangled with a baby copperhead, but it might have been something else. I asked around the neighborhood, but nobody knew whose cat it was. The cat is buried in my backyard with my other cats. I was hoping to make friends with it.

Princess is one of Suzie's kittens. I remember holding Princess as a tiny few weeks old kitten in the palm of my hand as she laid on her back purring loudly. Princess has a special close relation to me and sleeps cuddled to me for a while every night before sleeping at other spots. She loves it as I pet her. She watches me all the time and I can tell that she adores me. Princess has a very soft meow. Every night Princess will stay with me when I go to bed and sleep on my arm for a while before going to her various sleeping spots. Princess loves to chase the laser spot and play with various string toys I dangle. Princess loves popcorn and she sits beside me while I am watching a movie. I make old fashioned popcorn (microwave is horrible) and set aside some unsalted popcorn for the cats that want some. Princess eats a lot.

Sadie was one of Suzie's kittens. Sadly, Sadie died in 2025 of an odd cancer. She got her name because her fur was very silky black compared to her littermates. She also had only a faint trace of white fur on her belly. Sadie was a very sweet cat that adored me. She often sat by me in my office. It was common for any one of her littermates to chase her from the kitchen back to my office where I worked. I don't know if she started something or there was something about her they did not like. At breakfast and dinner, she often fluffed her tail and growled at the others. She was always on the kitchen counter supervising me making popcorn. In 2024 she had an eye infection, and I had to give her eye drops. I would wrap her in a towel with a clamp behind her neck. She resisted but not violently. Afterwards, I always gave her some treats. When she knew I was going to catch her she would be a little skittish, I think just to be cute, but she let me catch her. In early 2025 she had surgery to remove a small growth under her eye. It was a non-cancerous type that some cats get -- but I wonder if it was a precursor to her cancer that showed up in May. That also meant she had to take more medicine afterwards - so I was very involved with her and a strong bond developed. She apparently had lung cancer - although I wonder. Her esophagus became completely closed (apparently from a growth as a CT scan showed) so she could not eat. She was doomed. In her last days I did everything I could for her. We went on trips outside which she loved. Except for losing weight she never showed any signs of illness and was active. Because she could no longer take pills, I opted for a opioid pain medication that is absorbed through the skin on her ears on a Saturday morning. An expected side effect was that she would be sleepier and she was during the day. I woke up in the wee hours of Sunday morning and saw that she was by the back door. I let her outside think she wanted to go out. She went out for a short while but wanted to go back in. In retrospect I think she was by the door because air from the vent blows there and she was not getting enough with the pain medication having slowed her metabolism. I set up a comfortable spot for her on the den sofa where I slept and set a heating pad on low. She seemed content and I petted her. A little later she was making some noises and moving, and I thought she wanted to get down to the floor. So, I helped her down, but on the floor she lay motionless. She literally died in my hands. With support (sub-Q fluids) she could have lived well for a little longer and I was hoping to really make her final days great. She is buried with the other cats. I miss her very much. She had a very sweet meow. I visit her grave often and pet the ground wishing I could be petting Sadie. I visit with the other cats too.

Snugglie is one of Suzie's kittens and got her name because she likes to snuggle. Snugglie has a significant patch of white fur on her belly and there is a noticeable small white spot on her neck. In the spring of 2026 I had to give her some pills and she was a challenge to catch and because the three short hair black cats, Suzie, Sweetie, and Snugglie look so much alike from a distance, I put a pink collar on Snugglie to make it easier to catch her. I think she looks real distinguished with the collar so I will keep it on her. She has shown no sign that the collar bothers her. A common nickname I use is Snugglus. Snugglie is a very talkataive cat and meows at me often. Snugglie loves to chase the laser spot. Snugglie is very friendly to all the other cats and often grooms them. She often sits with me when I take a nap or when I go to bed. She adores me and stays around me a lot.

Sparkie is one of Suzie's kittens and is definitely the smartest one. She can literally read my mind, and I think she actually knows some English words such as treat. When Sparkie wants something (to eat) she follows me around the house emphatically meowing constantly. I think she knows her name and will often twitch her tail when I say it. I sometimes call her Spark-Wark or Sparkus. Sparkie is a very talkative cat and is always meowing at me, particularly when she wants attention. Sparkie often gets on my office desk to watch me work and be petted. In the mornings, Sparkie will often sit next to me before I get up. If I am late, she will join Smokey in loud meowing to make me get up. Sparkie does not like to be held but will put up with it for a little while because she knows I like to hold her. Sparkie and Smokey have been great friends for many years and often sleep cuddled together and groom each other.

Sweetie is one of Suzie's kittens and got her name because she is so sweet. Sweetie has only a small patch of white fur on her belly and only a trace of white fur on her neck. Sweetie loves a tummy rub and will get beside me when I am lying on the sofa and meow. She gets in a standing position, and I am on my back and reach and rub her tummy which she really loves. When I go to bed, Sweetie often sits with me for a long time before going to one of her sleeping spots.

Blackie was a stray female cat at one of my friend's house and lived there practically all her life as my friend fed her. Blackie would greet me and like to be petted when I visited. One November in 2019 when it was going to be very cold and Blackie was an elderly cat of at least 16 years; we decided that I should adopt Blackie so she could have an inside home. Blackie became known as the Goodest Kittycat because she never caused any problems and always seemed to highly appreciate her new home. Blackie was very quiet and only made soft meows. Initially she was scared of toys because she had never played. But I worked with Blackie and she learned to play and had a great time batting various toys I dangled. Blackie loved to sleep in the window perch in my office. The last year of her life she would sit with me in the early mornings before I got up. Blackie developed a condition where fluid built up around her lungs. The vet would drain that which made it easier for her to breathe for a couple of weeks. Something went wrong the last time - possibly Blackie had a stroke. Blackie was fine when I picked her up at the vet, but when we got home a few minutes later, Blackie was very slow coming out of the carrier. She did not move much and just wanted to lie wherever she was at. That was a Friday evening. I set up a comfortable spot in the living room for her, and she stayed there all night. Blackie did better on Saturday and she ate some tasty gravy packages and treats. She was slow but alert and loved it when I brushed her. Saturday night I fixed her a towel bed beside the sofa where I slept so I could check on her during the night. I woke up about 2:45 and checked her and there was no sign of breathing and she felt cool, so I was sure she had died. On Sunday morning while I was eating breakfast and I had not yet moved Blackie I saw movement in her chest. I checked her and she was alive but very weak. I used a syringe to give her some water and moved her back to my office beside my chair where I worked and made her as comfortable as possible. I petted her often. At about 11:15 that morning I was petting her and she made her last sounds. She had just died for real this time. I was glad to have some unexpected extra time with her. She is buried with the other cats and her marker notes that she was the Goodest Kittycat. Blackie was a great cat that got to enjoy the benefits of living indoors and receiving lots of love. I had a strong sense when I was around her that she adored and appreciated me. She knew I gave her a great home and lots of love.

Snowie was stray long-haired white male cat at my friend's house that showed up after I adopted Blackie and would greet me when I visited. My friend fed Snowie or otherwise she would have starved. Snowie enjoyed the outdoors at my friend's house. Snowie had some kind of injury or maybe just bad arthritis in one of her back legs and would eagerly hobble over to me every time I visited. Snowie loved to be petted, and I have no doubt she sensed that I was a cat person, and I could see in her eyes that she hoped I would give her a home. She had a home previously but lost that for reasons we don't know (my speculation is that it was an elderly owner who either died or had to go to a nursing home and family just abandoned the cat to fend for itself - Snowie had a microchip and I found out later that her real name was Mia). My friend was going to be moving to an apartment so I adopted Snowie in August of 2023 so she could have a home. Otherwise, she would be in a very bad situation. I took Snowie to my vet to be checked out and receive vaccinations. At that time I did not know whether Snowie was male or female so I told my vet that the name would be Spencer if male and Snowie if female. Later that day the vet called to say that Snowie was ready to be picked up. Snowie quickly settled in my home and made my office in a bedroom her home and slept by the computer. She was very happy but sadly, she had cancer and died unexpectedly about five months later while at the vet for cancer treatment. But her last months were good ones. Snowie got to enjoy having a home again and being loved in her final months. I remember one afternoon seeing her stretched out on my bed like she had probably done in her previous life. If I had not adopted her, she would have died a horrible death as a crippled stray. I wish Snowie could have lived longer. I was able to get her to play some - it had probably been a long time since she last played. Her potential life with chemotherapy was many months, maybe longer. She was a beautiful cat who I could see in her eyes as she looked at me great adoration and appreciation for what I had done for her. I contacted the place that had her microchip registration and wanted to communicate with her previous owner. That is when I learned her name was Mia. They passed my information to the contact they had but I never heard from anyone.