Ah, the brothers. When we took them in, they were still kittens. We found them one day while walking through the woods. The rest of the litter was dead and had been eaten by ants and the mother was only feet away; also dead, probably hit by a car. Malik and Noble had survived. We took them home, not wanting to just leave them there. We didn't have the room for two cats at the time, so we went through our entire address book trying to find a home for at least one of them. We couldn't find any home; they all said they didn't want a cat or they couldn't afford a cat or they didn't have space for a cat. With a short sigh, we gave up. Noble was put in my hands for the first time that day; and, let me tell you- the feeling I got was amazing. I took one look at the small ball of orange and just knew there was a reason everyone said "No. No. No" That cat was my cat. I gave him the name Noble. His name couldn't fit him any better. I admit, I was taken with Malik at first. He was the perfect example of a feral kitten. He scratched, he hid, he hissed... but, today, he has stolen my heart the same way Noble did three years ago. They've grown a lot, but, I still love them.

See Noble.

Spot. What can I say about Spot? Well, before she was a member of our family, she belonged to some neighbors across the street. They cared enough to at least get her spayed; though, I think they may have done that with their interests in mind, not hers. If that made any sense. I remember how my sister was quite taken with Spot. She'd sit on the porch and pet her. Sometimes she fed her tuna or extra cat food that we didn't need for that month. Sometimes she'd even give her a Pounce treat or two. Well, eventually, Spot's family moved. And, they didn't take Spot. For weeks she'd stand on their porch and meow. She was confused. She didn't know why they wouldn't open the door for her. My mom saw this and felt bad. Spot had been abandoned. My mom went to the porch one day and grabbed her; taking her home. She's been home for about four years now and she's my mom's cat today. And, she'll never be abandoned again; but, sometimes I think she wonders...

Honestly, there's not much to Gypsy's story. He was born into the family. Before we could get Faith spayed, she snuck out the house and came back pregnant. We tried to keep all the kittens alive, but, sadly, only Gypsy made it. There were five others, though. Two orange tabbies, an all black cat, a calico and an all white cat. I remember my mom would play with them for hours. And, this is a woman that has never liked cats that much unless they were... well... like Spot or Hank. She's rescued cats, she's fostered cats, but she has only bonded with a few cats. Those kittens were part of the few. I remember how she'd let them crawl all over her and smile while they did it. It was adorable. And, she was torn apart when they passed. We kept Gypsy. And, since then, he's been a big part of the family.

It was my sister that bought Faith home. Faith was always her cat, too. She found her under the porch of a friends house. A small kitten covered in fleas. No one claimed her, so she bought her home. Weeks after Faith joined our family, she gained weight and became a beautiful cat. And, she was obviously purebred. Well, some neighbors fancied her and claimed she was theirs. So, my moms boyfriend gave her to them; happy to be rid of another animal. Well, us kids were a living wreck over it. I even remember drawing a picture of her to hang on the wall. The next morning, we woke up and Faith was in the bathroom. My mom had bought her back. For about eight years, Faith lived with us. She passed away because she needed a blood transfusion and, sadly, we couldn't aford it.