This is the longest I've ever lived without a cat in my house. From the time I was four years old, when a tiny black and white kitten came to live with our family, there's been at least one cat around.
Just two months after DW and I got married, Taffy came to live with us. He was a barn kitten who was born across the road from my in-laws. A feisty, playful, yellow ball of fluff with blue eyes, he fit completely inside DWs bathrobe pocket. (Somewhere there's a picture of that!) He made the move to the Tri-Cities with us, and 7 years later, moved back to the wet side with us. He loved living on the farm.
Taffy was our first yellow cat, and James was our last. In between came Rumble Patrick, Muffin, Tigger, Annie, and Phoebe. We adopted all of them, or they adopted us. James moved in the summer of my 50th birthday, and moved into the house and our hearts during my birthday party.
Travel and house guests and a long road trip kept us from looking for another feline to share our life.
Today, the search begins.