Oh gosh... well, when I was growing up my Mom always had quite a few inside and outside cats around. But the one's I remember are Teeba - an all white beauty who was somewhat of a hellcat, but I loved her blue eyes. And then there was Wilbur... Wilbur was an all black boy who had been abandoned with his Mom and four litter mates at a house nearby. My Mom took everyone home and got them all adopted out - even Momma - but we kept Wilbur. He turned out to be a huge, lengthy boy. One of the sweetest cats I have ever known. I remember he loved gold jewelry. He would always steal our necklaces and hide them around the house! lol

 

Whiskers, the family cat. B&W. I don't remember to much about him except that he and I were pals. I don't even know if the B&W we had after the war was the same cat. It could be that my father, whose cat it was, found somewhere safe for him away from the bombing.

Then there was the kitten that strayed away. Don't remember much of him, either, except that he used to help me by fishing marbles out of a can so that I could bowl over the nails I'd set up as soldiers.

 

When I was 3 or 4 I fell in love with a kitten when I was over at my aunt's house. She had a cat that had kittens...the kitten I loved is Milo, an orange and white tabby. Milo is now 14.5 years old; but we have to put him down tomorrow He is just not feeling good at all - hardly able to walk without leaning on somethinig. He has been fighting CRF for close to three years...and had done really well up to a few months ago.

 

gr8 post, Heidi!!!
@stormchaser: LOL@stealing necklaces. wow, if i had a cat that would steal gold jewelry, i'd be rich. muahahahaha

@furryfriends: I'm so sorry about Milo! What a fighter he is! When i think of his name, i cant help to think of 'adventures of milo and otis' movie

As for me, i remember a white cat that would show up outdoors at our apartment in downtown Detroit. I was about younger than 8 yrs old. Strangely enough, he'd only show up on winters and i remember his coat matching the fresh powdered snow outside on the ground. since we had those old-fashioned ac that was placed in the windowsill, i'd open up the sides to throw out those mini frozen shrimps but at small doses at a time. If my mom knew i was giving those to a cat, i'd be dead meat. lol. i just enjoyed seeing him there..he's so beautiful and cute of course...and so faithful in visiting me even though at times, i didnt give him his treats. i loved listening to his meows...it was as if he was calling me and he'd always look up at me (since i lived in 2nd floor) whenever i was at the window. I never got to pat him cause he'd only show up at the alley-side of the apartment.

 

my childhood cat Misty who was a grey DSH tabby. She let me do anything to her. I put her in my bike basket and rode around. And I wanted to be a teacher back then I would set up all those little colorful plastic chairs and put stuffed animals in them and Misty as students and read to them and she always just sat here with no care. I even dressed her in baby doll clothes. Coolest cat ever. I remember her passing... and crying a year after it happened out of the blue.

 

Sadly, the FIRST cat encounter I remember was when my mom saw a cat in the road and swerved to avoid it, only to feel a "bump". My mom got out of the car and looked for it, but never found a body, so it must've been only injured and hid itself, probably to die. My mom dislikes cats (she's allergic), but she sobbed for days.

The first cat I actually met was my aunt's cat. I was really little (I forget how young), and I pet her very gently and spoke to her in a soft voice, and she started purring and rubbing against me. I tried to purr back. She was just showing me so much love that I misunderstood and was convinced she'd fallen in love with me and that I would break her heart when I left.

 

Pepper.


Pepper was my first cat, he was pure black he was incredibly shiny. He was so smart, he could open locked doors, he could acually speak a fair amount. He never scratched, never bit, he roamed in and out of our house freely but we kept him in at night.


He died of kidney cancer in '06. It was so sad. i will never forget him, and still wish I had done better for him, though it was so long ago. It feels like yesterday. He was only 11 when he passed, rest in peace.

 

My Granny's tabby, called Parker. It loathed children, so I only saw it on rare occasions.


The first cat I remember that I actually got to stroke was my mate's massive ginger cat called Jaffa. He was a real soppy thing and used to take flying leaps onto people's laps. Usually when they weren't paying attention to him. You'd be talking or whatever, and suddenly WHUMPH. There he was, crushing your legs and grinning at you.

My mother had a Siamese called Natasha (my dad saved her as a kitten just before she was about to be drowned, and brought her home in a paper bag ). She lived for a very long time, but died before I was born.

 

the family cat honey she was grey and white and she found use by coming to the back door on a rainy night.

 

Inky. I was 5, and the neighbor's cat had a litter. I begged and BEGGED for the little black one--my mother said no.

I got chicken pox and while I was stuck at home abed, my parents went to the neighbor and got the kitten and brought him home to me! I named him Inky and I adored him. My parents did have him neutered but otherwise they did nothing right. He was fed the worst dry crap and allowed outside in a very busy 'hood. In spring 1969 he disappeared--I was disconsolate. We searched and searched but could not find him.

2 months later he reappeared out of nowhere, with a strange wound on his head that the vet said looked as if he'd been in a wire cage and injured himself trying to get out.

Just a few months later, we were getting ready to move from CT to TN. I was only 6-1/2 years old--so I only know what they told me. My mom said he had a urinary tract issue (cystitis/FLUTD from the crappy food, I assume) and that they "had" to put him to sleep b/c he was in pain, etc. Now that I know more I am 99.9% sure my mother just didn't want to bother with the treatment and with taking him with us.

I've cried a lot of tears over Inky in the last 40 years, I can tell you. I will have a lot to make up to him when I see him again at the Rainbow Bridge. I know he won't blame me--I was just a kid. But it was horrible and I wish I had been old enough to keep it from happening.

So there's a sad tale for you. RIP Inky--I still love you!

 

The first cat I remember was Checkers, a sweet black and white DSH, who was owned (poorly!) by our neighbors across the street. I was maybe 4 or 5 when we first moved to the subdivision, and it wasn't until I was much older (13-14) that I realized they abused the poor thing, throwing him by his tail, leaving him outside constantly (because they didn't want to "deal with him") and the like. So I began to take him in at night through my broken bedroom screen window. I'd feed him, and cuddle him, and he'd sleep with me until morning. Awesome cat...I only wish I could have done more for him.

 

My first cat, was the kitten I got when I was around 6 years old. He was black & white and I named him KeyKay. I have no idea how I came up with that name! I still remember the day I got him as one of the best of my life! I was so overjoyed! He was an indoor / outdoor cat and roamed a lot. He'd disappear for a few days then show back up. One year, he disappeared for months. We'd given up on ever seeing him again. Then, on Christmas eve, as we were all sitting at the dinner table, KeyKay jumped up in the kitchen windowsill just like he always did when he wanted in the house! We couldn't believe it. My Christmas miracle!! He lived to be 13 years old. I'd left him at my parents and gone off to college by then. I've always regretted that I didn't spend enough time with him in his golden years and that we didn't take better care of him all his life. I've learned a lot about cats since that first love. And I'm still learning.

 

Mommy cat - she was a cat who lived on my parents' farm and had kittens, thus earning her the name. My mom thinks she was someone's pet who was abandoned and took up residence in our garage. She was a light orange tabby cat who used to greet us each time we walked past the garage.

The next cat I remember was a neighbor's tortie cat that I named Donut because I once shared a donut with her!

 

My mother got a kitten for me when I was around 4 yrs. old. It was the mid-60's and Puss-N-Boots food was popular so that's what I named my kitten. Of course I called her.... yes it's true.... *****!!!!! I recently asked my mother just why she didn't try to suggest another nickname. lol We moved to an old family house a few years later and had lots of semi-feral cats. They ate and slept in an old fashioned detached garage that I naturally called.... yes it's true.... The Cat House!!! Either my parents were oblivious to the oldest child or just totally naive. lol God Bless Puss-N-Boots - he was a great friend to a little girl.

 

My parents got Chessie from a neighbor girl who was going door to door trying to find homes for a litter of kittens. I was about 8 months old. Chessie lived to be 23, so he was my friend all through childhood. I took this picture of him sitting on my bed with my teddy bear when I was about 10.
http://www.catforum.com/forum/members/28419-katlover13-albums-my-kitty-clan-picture423-chessie.jpg

He was a wonderful, tolerant, intelligent cat who loved his whole family. The vet told my parents to feed him "Ideal" dog food, which he ate pretty far into his teens. Must not have hurt him too badly!

 

Tuffy

He was a shorthair grey and black raccoon tailed monster that would insist you didn't ever touch his belly or put him off your lap or he'd jack you.

Next cat at the same place was Kitty Smith... he looked like Tom from Tom and Jerry and was the sweetest thing... and he was named after our landlord and neighbor, Mrs. Smith...

I think I was 5 or 6 or so when those cats were in my life, but I never forgot them.

 

my first cat that I remember was Jimmy Whiskers. I was probably 3 or 4, and Jimmy Whiskers was a mostly white kitten with a few black splotches. he grew up, was not neutered, and disappeared. My second cat however, I got when I was 7, my grandfather took me to a wood pile over a fence, and after he moved all the wood from the top, you could see a bunch of terrified little kittens all piled up together. He held me over the fence so I could just reach one kitten. It shrieked and screamed and we put him in a box. When I got home, he was frightened but gentle. He was the cat that was iconic in my life, I grew up with him, and it was really tough when he died, far too young.
.

 

The first cat i remember is Jemima.

she was a Manx Tortoiseshell and white lovely cat. She was the same age as me, we were both babies together. She used to disappear because she would hide in the underside of my dads van and he would go off to work and she would get out and be lost. I remember going out with my dad searching for her. She died aged 11 of leukimia but not before having a huge operation where her stitches went the full length of her, trying to save her. We since named other cats Jemima after her.

 

Meet Tarrant

Tarrant (or Tarry) was a HUGE, fat tabby tom cat. And he was my first ever cat. I loved him dearly. Up until that point, the only family pets we had had were bunnies, canaries (my father used to breed them) and a young collie dog called Sheba (Sheba died aged 11 from a stroke. We got Benji the very next day).

My mother knew someone whose female cat had gotten herself pregnant and, once we had seen the kittens, I wanted to take one home. :lol: Tarrant, by the way, is a character from an old UK sci-fi program called Blakes Seven. He was my pin-up at the time. I was very young

Away. Ahem. Tarry was my cat and he was lovely. Very affectionate, he loved his cuddles. A huge, gentle boy. Strangely, he never, ever washed and used to leave dirty patches wherever he sat. We had to give him baths. Sadly, he had a rather horrible end which I have mentioned on this forum several times before. He was very much an outdoor cat and was attacked by and had his back broken by two dogs on his way home - in our own front garden. I watched it all - its one of those childhood memories I most definitely wish I didn't have. He was two years old.

However, Tarry was the trigger for my mother deciding to adopt and foster cats for the Cats Protection League so - although his story was sad - without him Mum probably wouldn't have thought to help other kitties.

Problem was, as far as I was concerned, no cat measured up to Tarry. I decided I didn't like cats anymore. For years, I really didn't like cats. So, I ignored them and lavished all my love on Sheba and then Benji instead.

Until about 20 years later, when I met this one:

EDIT: Aww, I'd almost forgotten what Toby looked like with two eyes. Thats a bit sad

 

When I was young, no close family members or friends had cats (not that I remember anyway). My parents did not particularly like cats and up until the age of about 8, I hadn't really had any interaction with a cat. Yeah, I'd seen them in people's gardens etc but had sort of been learned from my parents they weren't nice.. One day when visiting some family members we hadn't met before, I fell in love with cats! I remember all us kids were watching a movie, I was the eldest in the room and this GORGEOUS long hair cream cat with dark points came out from nowhere and sat in my lap. I was patting her and her owner was quite surprised when she came in and saw it.. Apparently the cat usually didn't like kids and stayed away from them. Her name was Custard and she was so pretty. From that day on, I wanted a cat but it wasn't until I was 18/19 I finally got one. I don't even know where my parents misconception came from as now I have two, they both love Sammy and Meeka. It's funny how many people think they don't like cats but when they actually interact with them, fall in love.

 

The first cat I remember actually was my cat Zoe ( still have her now) We got her when I was 8. She's almost 12 years old now. Her mama was pure siamese, so she's soooo vocal! I also remember her having enormous ears as a kitten.

 

My kitties

The first cat I remember was from a picture that my mother took of me as a baby with my neighbor's kitty sitting on the bed with me. See pic below. Then some years later, when I was around the age of 10, found an orange kitten in my back yard and named her Pumpkin. My family would not allow me to bring the cat inside the house and Pumpkin used to come running to me whenever I called her name. I would feed her tender vittles cat food and carry her up the alley way to sit on the porch with her or him (have no idea to this day what sex this cat was) cradled in my arms. I was so happy to have a kitty because all my life I had wanted one. However, one day my Pumpkin did not respond to me when I called her name and I was told by the one neighbor that would complain about the cat crying at night, that someone saw Pumpkin in the street and took her. I was devastated!!!! My family never allowed me to get another cat, although I begged and pleaded. Finally my mother got remarried and we had to move to a new house. I told my new step-father that the only way I would move with them, is if they got me a cat. So being that he was trying to win my affection at that time, we went to a shelter and they had a special deal going on that day where you adopt two and get a free case of food. Well, my step-father always liked a good deal so we got two kitties!! (Pic below of grey tabby cats) Eventually, I left that household to go to college and did not see them too much anymore.

Since then I have rescued and adopted other cats. Pumpkin Patch, a white calico; Multi, a black calico; and Baby Oreo, a white and black kitty.

And I just recently adopted an orange and white kitty that looks a lot like my first Pumpkin who I found in my backyard when I was 10. Low and behold, the person whom I adopted her from had already named this cat Pumpkin! At that point, I knew she was destined to be mine.