My cat Winter was a Lynx-point Siamese, and she was so smart and loving and cute and perfect. And now she's dead. We had her for a long time. 15? 16? years. I wasn't there when she died, and I still forget sometimes when I go home to my parents' house. I still scan the rooms for her favorite sleeping spots looking for her. Most of y'all (if you know me) have probably heard me being mushy about her in great length already, so I'll spare you that on this page (mostly). So instead I'll make you look at a lot of pictures of my baby (and other pets we've had), and I'm sure you'll all agree she was just beautiful and adorable and cuddly and...

as a kitten

did I mention that she's sorta a scaredy cat? She looks...alert...in this picture, if nothing else.

Winter and Persia (an imaginitively named Persian that we no longer have) in my mom's lap

I love my cat! Even when it looks like she's possessed by Satan.

She does the cutest things!

Babushka Winter!

It's a hard lesson to learn, but people can be cruel. And check out my pants!
(I think that was the one and only time she was ever on her leash - NOT recommended!)

Winter chilling in my room.

Chiquita (in the hood of a sweatshirt), hamster extraordinaire!

Rusty, the innocous Guinea pig

Our pets liked to "play."

I have a separate page about my pet rats, Vertov and Eisenstein.

Wanna hear the story about how I found my cat? Ok, at the time ( I was 7 or so) we lived in a house that was on the side of a hill. There was a crawlspace underneath the house, because surveys show that people like houses with level floors better. Go fig. Anyway, one night I was in my room waiting to fall asleep when I heard the floor meow. This was a new thing, so I listened very carefully, and when it happened again, I went bolting into my parents room saying something to the extent of "My floor is meowing! My floor is meowing!" My calm, level- headed parents were like " That's nice. GO TO SLEEP!" It was not for a day or so when I finally convinced my parents. Once my parents heard, they deduced that there was a cat living underneath our house in the crawlspace. (Betcha thought that info about the crawlspace was extraneous, huh huh huh?) My parents looked in with a flashlights, and saw lots of dead leaves, lots of cobwebs and insects, and a little ball of white. I was excited because a cat is even cooler than a meowing floor! She was a stray kitten who had been abandoned, and she had been living under out house eating insects etc. for a little while. My poor baby! Some other cats had not ben very nice, as she had claw marks on her ears. Naturally, she had a lot of fear, and wouldn't come out. Over the course of a couple of days, my mother sat down ther are would leave food (like ham and cheese) and eventually Winter trusted enough to come a little bit near the entrance. That is when my mother snatched her, and took her into the house. And that's how we got our cat. :) She was a 'fraidy cat for the longest time, but she's mellowed out in her middle age. For instance, the doorbell now is no cause for panic (well, it's also slightly kaputt and is barely audible, but let's chalk it up to my cat's personal growth, shall we?). As a kitten, she was white which is why she was named Winter. That was before we learned she is Siamese (Lynx Point, to be precise), and now Winter is not so white. Dark taupe at best. More like Winter-in-New-York- after-the-taxis-have-been-there. But, what's done is done. me and my beautiful cat *nostalgic sigh*

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