The first cat I owned was a female ginger tabby, that I picked up at the Humane Society and was a gift from a friend of mine. I named her Asreal, like the cat on the Smurfs, but with an ‘s’ instead of a ‘z’ in her name.
I realized early on that she needed a fellow feline, so although my brother who was living with me at the time was against it, I went out and got another one. The only ginger tabby left was a little male, so he became my latest housemate. Since at the time, ‘The Great Gatsby’ was my brothers favorite book, our male feline was named Gatzby. Again a switcheroo of ‘s’ and ‘z’ in the name.
Those two lived through my getting married and having kids and getting divorced. So, my kids grew up with cats. Asreal and Gatzby were with me for five years before I had kids.
We lost poor Gatzby when he was about 13 years old. I swear he had a stroke and died in my arms overnight. I claimed I would never have any new cats because he broke my heart when he died, but of course, one Halloween, we saw this sweet black cat at a pet store and so Jett was added to our family.
We lost Asreal at the reasonably old age of 17, which is not too bad for an outside cat, but before she was even gone, we picked up Squeaks at the Humane Society. She’s a very pretty calico.
So, these last two cats are indoor cats because I got tired of the fleas and injuries the first two would get outside. They are great company for me, although my current life partner doesn’t much like cats. Too bad! They aren’t going anywhere! They can generally be found curled up in front of my monitor as I work, which is where Jett is now, or sitting on my lap, or curled up next to me on the bed as I sleep.
Cats are great company and although I swear I won’t have any more after these two are gone, who knows....................