Jeanne's Cats ...
Sigmund
Sigmund was my first cat. I got her when I was 14—here I am with her at 15—and she lived until I was 33. I still miss her, though she was ornery, and always sprawled on top of any book I was trying to read.
Morgan
My second cat, Morgan, was a wily beast. She ate doughnuts, tuna fish sandwiches, and just about anything else she could get her paws on.
Guernsey
Guernsey was huge and not very bright. I named him Guernsey because of his markings—I thought he looked like a Guernsey cow. I found out later that he actually looked like a Holstein cow, but it was too late—his weak brain wouldn’t have stood a name change.
Gibson
Sweet and shy, Gibson was happiest hidden away. One of her favorite places to sleep was the wastebasket.
Emmeline
Emmeline was the Cat of the Month at the SPCA where I adopted her. It was false advertising, for she was the most annoying cat I’ve ever known. Still, I adored her, even when she sharpened her claws on the legs of anyone unlucky enough to wear bluejeans in my house.
Charlie
Charlie was yellow and cross-eyed. I never could figure out how much he actually saw, but he was very patient about it all. He and Guernsey were good buddies, united in attempts to keep Emmeline under control.
Lucy
Lucy is completely insane, but in a way that seems to make her happy. She’s not too fond of other cats, not to mention the dog, and occasionally needs to be given her own room for some calm time.
Jake (with Milton)
Jake loves anyone who gives him a chance. He even tried to love Cagney the dog, but gave up when Cagney bit his tail. He’s the best cat I’ve ever known for sneaking food, so we’re always putting him on a diet to get his weight down.
Beverly
Beverly, my golden beauty, is the shyest ever of all my animals. She can’t even bear the other cats (especially crazy Lucy), so lives in solitary splendor in my study, overseeing the writing.
Milton
Baby Milton was blind and sick most of his short life, yet he never lost his optimism. Jake took excellent care of him, teaching him how to climb stairs and jump onto windowsills. We miss him.
Kirby
Kirby came to us because his first family had cat allergies. While he was here, he was King of Our Home. Rest in peace, old friend.
Frank
Hidden in this dappled shade is Frank, one of the several feral cats we’ve cared for over the years. We leave food and water outside and make sure they can always crawl under our porch for warmth in the winter.