Last night I was looking through some old photos that I hadn't seen in years and years and years. In the pile of pics were some real gems: photos of my childhood cats! Somehow I'd forgotten how cat-crazy my family was -- honestly, I was surprised that half our photos included at least one of us holding a cat! So I guess it's in the genes. Here are just a couple of fun ones.
So much early 80's goodness in this photo! First of all, I'm on the left wearing a Duran Duran shirt -- Seven and the Ragged Tiger, if I'm not mistaken -- and I'll take this moment to mention I had a Tiger Beat photo of John Taylor slid inside the plastic cover of my Trapper Keeper with the kittens on it. Remember that one? I found one online right here. They're calling it vintage. Oy. Also, our black male cat named Sidney was subjected to wearing my adoption doll clothes. Poor cat. My younger sister and her friend were there, too. With me as a role model, she had no chance of normalcy. None, whatsoever.
Here we are on Christmas morning. I think I was in 9th grade. My little sister was holding Skippy, who we called Sheepy because he was soft as a lamby. I'm holding our teeny tuxedo girl, Bobbi. My mom found her when she was just six weeks old. She'd been abandoned and Mom fed her with a dropper til she was old and strong enough to feed herself. Mom is still a good egg and my cat lady role model.
Here I am with Sheepy. He was awesome, floppy and put up with my crap like nobody's business. Also, please note the heavily-tinseled tree. That was back in the day when we loaded the silver stuff on the branches 'til they drooped and then spent a good month pulling strands of it out of cat butts. We've come a long way since then. Tinsel = bad.
Proof of Sheepy putting up with my crap. Also proof of my sweet asymmetrical haircut.
Christmas morning -- 8th grade. It was a making-cat-ears-with-my-fingers kind of exciting day. Note to my sister: You're welcome for cutting most of your candy-striped butt out of this shot.
That was the year Santa brought me my very first typewriter. It was seriously my Red Ryder of Christmas gifts. I mean look at it! It's ridiculously cool! The color was fabulous and probably matched the eye shadow I wore at the time. And it was electric ... and came with correction tape. At the time I was the news editor for my middle school paper, so this typewriter would go on to produce many an important article about school lunches and student council elections. Glory, glory hallelujah! My life would never be the same again.
So these photos may explain a little bit about how I turned out the way I did. It's funny -- back then, I never would have guessed my penchant for pussycat humor and love of writing would eventually turn into a source of crazy passion and even income. But I also thought I'd probably marry John Taylor, so there's that.