I lost Friskie 23 years ago, I still mourn a tiny gentle tabby with white feet and bib who guided an awkward 11 year old into adulthood. Friskie was actually my 2nd cat - my first I got as a 8 or 9 year old and because of a neighbor my dad tried to keep Velvet on a runner to keep him out of her yard (Dad didn't understand cats, he really was trying - he got better at cats). He escaped and I hunted for weeks and still wonder what happened to him. My sisters' got a kitten when I was 10. When they brought her home they thought she was a he, and when she had kittens less than a year later they wanted the kittens instead - and all I wanted was Friskie. We kept them all and later had Friskie spayed (and all the kittens). She was mine from that point on. Friskie seemed to be able to read me, she knew me better than anyone. She would comfort me when I cried and could be a total clown and make me laugh when I needed it most. In 1979 I was told she had malignant melanoma and it had already spread everywhere. Our vet said she was in no pain and if she began to suffer that he would come to our home. For those last months I watched helplessly as my sweet baby became smaller and weaker, but she was always happy and enjoyed our special times. I could write a book about our journey from childhood to adult hood, but those last months are bittersweet. She was too weak to stand or walk the last few days, but when I picked her up she would purr so happily and her eyes would shine, and I knew I was loosing her but at that time all I knew was how much we loved each other and how special every moment was and I held them as a treasure. She left me in her sleep on autumn day in early August 1980.
Velvet and Friskie were my Firsts and they have been followed by probably over 100 since - all who I tried to let feel love and security, all who had a name they heard regularly.
