Until yesterday we had 4 cats. We didn’t ask for any of them – all are adoptions from family and friends. Smokie was already old when we got her from my grandmother who was unable to care for her in the retirement home, and she made it to the ripe age of 22. She had a quirky personality and some unique skills, and she didn’t take crap from anyone – humans, giant dogs, giant cats, not nobody.
Smokie liked to drink from the toilet (click on the photo above to see the slideshow). Normal bowls of fresh water held no interest for her. So we had to learn to leave the seat UP at night (sorry Grace)… if we forgot, she’d climb up on the bed and poke us in the head until someone got up and did it. She was a big cat and liked to sit on her tail with her belly pooching out – I called her “Smokie the Hutt”:
She loved to play with flashlight beams (the other cats thought she was nuts). She didn’t run away from anyone – she’d sit there and stare down dogs and other cats and give them a taste of her nasty left hook if necessary. There’s something special about a mean-tempered cat when they finally show that they like you (or at least tolerate you). Makes you feel a little special. We’ll miss her.