One of these days, I will write up the full story of Popsicles and Tiger, my first and dearly beloved pets and put it here. I suppose no one cares but me, but I feel I owe it to them somehow.
In the mean time, here are pictures.
Note: They didn't really have red eyes! That is just redeye from the flash. Both of them had blue eyes, becuase they were part Siamese.


(I was three. Enough said.)

Popsicle was my cat. She put up with everything thing I did to her (with only the best of intentions, of course) as a small child and loved me anyway. For 18 years, she slept with me, sat on my lap while I watched TV and while I worked on the computer, followed me around the house and came when I called (well, usually. She was, after all, a CAT).
Popsicle died in the summer (Augest? September? It's all a blur now) of 2003.
Rest in peace, fuzzmuffin.


(My dad thought the white face looked tigerish.)

Aw! Look at that face!
Tiger was my mother's cat and Popsicle's litter mate. Tiger died in November of 2001 of kedney failure. He was an old kitty. Over 16. It was all rather traumatic for all of us:( It was my first personal encounter with death. Other than the death of my father's father, but I was very young then I hadn't known him very well. Though I noted, with a vague sense of guilt, that dead cats are considerably less stressful that DYING cats.