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Friskey : May 19, 1968 ~ July 5, 1975

Since I was only a little girl when my mother got our first cat Babette as a Christmas present, and never had any kind of pet before, if I was to judge the personality of a cat based on Babette, I probably would never have gotten another cat. Babette wasn’t exactly the friendliest cat going and pretty much kept to herself. But then came Friskey and he was to change my mind about cats in general.

It was on Mother’s Day back in 1968 when I was twelve years old when my grandmother and I went to visit my great-grandmother. As we were walking home, alongside on one of the streets, one of the shop owners came running out and said to us, “Is that your cat?” The two of us turned around and there was this very young male silver tabby kitten quite literally following us. He seemed very friendly so it’s my guess that maybe he had belonged to someone and somehow had gotten out. I asked my grandmother if we could take the cat home and she agreed. I came near him, scooped him off the street and cuddled him next to me. He didn’t struggle at all, nor showed any fear of me, instead purred contently in my arms. I was to name him Friskey. Where Babette was aloof and a loner type cat, Friskey was the opposite and became a “velcro cat”–that is, like a dog instead of a cat and would follow me around the apartment, cuddled up in bed with me, and would keep me company all the time I’d be home.

Over the coming years we would get more cats, but Friskey was the first to be a memorable love-bug of a cat, he was also to be my first heartbreak of which I’ll discuss in my next entry.

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