I don't remember the exact dates of her birth or when we got her because I was so little. She was an energetic kitten and got along well with the other cat we had at the time, Baby. She didn't like any of the cats we got after that, though.

She gained a lot of weight when she was young, which was strange because she didn't eat much and loved to play. She used to sleep in the bathroom. My bedroom was right next to the bathroom and I used to fall asleep every night listening to her snore. I had a hard time falling aswleep after we moved and Bear no longer slept close enough to my room for me to hear her snore.

When she got older, she became sick and was diagnosed with megacolon, which ment that her colon was larger than her anus which made it diificult for her to pass stool. By then she was too old to do surgury on. We moved her into my bedroom to keep her away from the other cats, who were picking on her because she was so weak at the time (she was kind of a bully before she got sick).

She made an almost miraculuos recovery and then proceeded to take over my room. When I would lay in bed to watch TV or read, she would be on my chest. When I would be out, she would be on my pillow. Once she even stole my pillow from me while I was trying to sleep on it.

Well over a year after she moved into my bedroom, Bear became very sick again. This time it was worse than before. She lost control of her bowels and stopped eating. So my family and I made the only humane decision, to put her to sleep so she didn't have to slowly suffer to death. I still miss her more than any other pet I've ever had.

Baby was always a shy cat. I don't know what happened to her before she got to the humane society, but she always cowered away from your hand when you went to pet her. And tehn she would purr louder than any cat I have ever met once she realized what you were doing.

Becasue she was so meek, she often got chased and harassed by our other cats. The only place they ever left her alone was when she was on the back of the couch. Someone once said, "You know everything's alright with the world as long as Baby's on the back of the couch!"

What was really cool was she had an orange spot on her back in the exact shape of the continent of Africa, which is why I often called her "Africa kitty". Her meow sounded like she was saying "Ma!".

When she got older, the other cats stopped chasing her and started treating her like a queen. They seemed to love grooming her.

She was diagnosed with diabetes towards the end of her life. Shortly after that, she lost a lot of weight and started sleeping all the time. We were planning to move out of state at the time. Baby had moved with us twice before, and both times it had stressed her out more tahn any of the other cats, so we knew she would never have survived the 16 hour drive or the shock of being in a new house. The day before the move, we had her put to sleep.

When we got Max, he had no whiskers because he had climbed under a lawn mower and got them all cut off! He was the cutest little furball as a kitten, with ears so big they looked like they belonged on a bat.

He grew up into a gorgeous cat, who was only a little vain. Okay, so he was very vain. He would spend hours grooming himself, and would often get groomed by the other cats. And if you told him was pretty he was, he would get a smug look on his face, close his eyes, and slwoly move his head as though you were petting him.

Max had the strangest meow. He actually didn't meow, he would kind of howl like "Maw-ooooo". The first time I ever saw the movie "The Grudge" I was at home with my mom and my fiance. During one of the quiet, suspensful parts, Max let out a howl so mournful and eerie that everyone jumped and my mom had to pause the movie so she could make sure it really was Max and not some ghost kid!

When Max became a teenage kitty, he began to slow down. After a while he stopped eating the regular food and we had to feed him a special medicated food. Then, one day, he wouldn't eat anymore. That night, he curled up in one of the cat beds and fell asleep and then he quietly passed away.

Peanut is the smallest cat in our house, and the most feared. She has a quick temper, needle claws, and razor teeth, all hidden beneath the cutest little meow you will ever hear. She can be cuddly, but only on HER terms. The second she wants to leave, you let her go or lose some skin. The only time she is really cuddly and wants human attention is when she is sick.

She rules over the house as its Queen, and no one challenges her rule.

Lucky was found one cold early spring morning when my mom took her poodle, Pepper, outside to do her business. Pepper took off after a stray she spotted across the street and chased it under a car. After my mom got the dog back into the house, she tried calling to the stray and, much to her surprise, he ran right over to her. Lucky has been with us ever since.

As it turns out, the people who had lived across the street from us has abandoned the poor kitty when they decided to move. He couldn't fend for himself, though, since he was fully declawed so he spent over two weeks living off of grass, bugs, and scraps that people in the neighborhood would toss him. He was also slightly frostbitten on all four paws.

Since then, Lucky has never taken a meal for granted, which explains his girth. He also enjoys laying close to (or on) the stove to keep warm, which means we have to keep a very close eye on him when we cook. He is also the friendliest cat we have and wastes no time climbing on a newcomer's lap and covering them in orange fur. He loves watching birds and once broke a cat tree when he was trying to jump after a bird.

A friend of the family went to visit his ex-wife and kids one day when his kids grabbed him excitedly by the hand and told him that he had to go see the cats. He hadn't known that they had any cats, so he followed them down into the dirt basement to see them. Both cats were in a small cage on the cold dirt floor, covered in dirt, feces, and tangled fur. The kids explained that they were there to breed. Furious, he went upstairs and told his ex-wife that he wouldn't call the humane society if she gave up the cats without a fight and never got another cat again. She complied.

He took the cats to his girlfriend's house and she took them to the vet, where she found out that the female's hind end was so tangle that she had been unable to pass stool and probably would have died in a couple of days.

Unfortunatly, the man who rescued the cats is allergic and couldn't keep them, so my mom decided to take them. When I first met them, they were shaved, weak, and scared little kitties that were afraid to be touched.

Today, Wicket is spoiled rotten. She is still shy about being touched, but she will let you pet her if the mood strikes her. And, surprisingly, her fur rarely ever tangles.

Woozle (who is male) loves being held and pet, and will drool on you if you make him too happy.