the first cat I remember is Moppet, rest her soul, who we owned when I remember living briefly with my grandparents briefly on Cowper Road in Palo Alto.  That was the year I was in fourth grade, and our teacher taught us to bake a pie crust.  I came home excited about my new knowledge, and made a cherry pie for our Thanksgiving feast that year.  but I got the proportions wrong….

Moppet was one of those very needy cats who slept on my chest, and kneaded with her paws, and sucked on my pajamas, leaving me with a large damp spot on my night-clothes.  But, oh, the purring….

Then, when I was a teen-ager, we had Charlie Brown, who was a bruiser, with Siamese coloring.  Our vet complimented Charlie, since all his scars were on  his face, and the vet said, “Well, he doesn’t run away from a fight.” CB lived happily with us for years, later in his life lying quietly in the front yard, under our big nondescript bush, in the shade, watching the world go by.

Our next cat, Charlotte, was chosen by my then 5-year-old daughter, along with my soft-hearted mother.  They chose a neurotic and sickly kitten, who grew up into the most neurotic cat I’ve ever known.  Charlotte hated everyone.  Bar none.

We moved to Maryland from California, and here, we acquired K.C. (Kitty Cat).  She was a little crazy, too.

We got a dog, and then a second dog.  She initially got along with both of them, but then she lost her eyesight, and our poor blind kitty would wander the house, hissing defensively as she rounded every corner.  The poor dogs, who had loved to chase her around in her younger days, seemed to understand that she couldn’t see, and they got very kind towards her.  They just tolerated her crotchetiness.

K.C. passed away.  We took a little break from cats.  And, then, I went ahead and adopted this pair:

Orly and Lior, our calico kittens, who came to us with playful-ness, and fun, and a love for their dog, Reaghan:

But, Reaghan got old…and passed away.  And Orly decided that she needed a home with a dog.  So, she went out in our neighborhood, and found a great new family with a lovely dog.  Orly really doesn’t get along that well with her sister, Lior, who remains with us, and lives in our basement, now that we’ve adopted Boxer, our new dog.  I’m hoping she may get friendly with Boxer, some day…

This post was inspired by A Letter to My Cat by Lisa Erspamer, a collection of letters penned by celebrities to their furry friend. Join From Left to Write on November 10th as we discuss A Letter to My Cat. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.