So lately, I'd been thinking of the many animals in my life and cats were common.

When I was a baby, my mother had a cat, Fred, whom she received as an engagement gift from my father. Fred was my guardian angel, until he died when I was barely a year old.

For a while, I was raised with my grandmother and grandfather while my parents both work 3 jobs. I always ran afoul of the resident rescued-as-a-kitty barn cat, Gus, the toughest, mofo-of-a-cat EVER! He was hit by cars twice and survived, albeit he walked crooked the first time and the second time, it straightened his walking. He died at age 19, which most cats that are outdoor cats, live to 4 at the maximum age.

We got our own cat, a 2-year old rescue named Nike, who was pretty ornery until feline dementia set in. She was 21 when she died March 7, 2013. During the onset of her dementia, she was also going deaf and once pinned Socks when she said in her yowling "You oughta know I'm tired of your shit!" She was ornery for the majority of her life.

I got a 10-year old cat of my own via a rescue event, one that doted on my mental being as I had done to her physical: Her name was Mittsy. She was a junk food cat and would play cheer leader when you played console games. However, her organs failed and she was 15 when she was put down January 31, 2003

In the 10 days after Mittsy's euthanization, we adopted a grizzled elderly Bombay\Burmese cat named Sylvia and my father fell for this cat. She may have had no teeth, but she would gum the steak to no end. When she died in 2006, my father was heart broken.

In June of 2003, we adopted our cat, Socks, who is a little piggy. When she went into heat, it was the noisiest yowling I ever heard. On December 3, that same year, we adopted Fox, her grey half-sister, named for her fennec foxlike ears and tenacity to manipulation that cuteness. However, our plan to grow them up together didn't happen because exactly 8 years later, Fox died of feline leukemia, which broke mom's heart. Even though Socks is around and acts like the little dummy she is, her sister was naughty, making messes and using her cuteness and understood English to a certain extent. When we got Fox, she was too little to be taken away, so she searched for breast milk. She would suckle from her sister, which reinforced their tight bond. When the other cats died, Sock would retrieve a purple amigurumi hippo we named as "Happy".

July 12, 2013, we received a cat named Gemini from a family friend. Gemini is a very sweet kitty. Except when fighting with Socks. She tends to gravitate towards males of the human species when cuddling.

What is your history?

Throughout my childhood I went through 34 pet fish, and grey tabby cat use to follow me home from school though, which I would call my "pet", but my Mum never let me bring him inside. That was about it though.
I currently own a fish named 'Dippy', that I won on a carnival. He would dip slightly to the side when he would swim so we didn't think he'd last too long, but he's just turned 1.
My Mum never let us have animals, because she had grown up around them and hated it, so she thought we would to, but actually when I buy a new house that I can have pets in I'm hoping to get a cat or a dog. Hopefully an Italian Greyhound and maybe a husky when my future children are older (not really a big fan of having large dogs around small children and it would be mean to buy a Husky then get rid of it within a few years when I start having children).

My sister has a pet cat called Socks too. She was a stray kitten that started knocking around outside the house just before my Mum passed away, afterwards my sister would sometimes let it in because our neighbour's cats use to bully it, and our neighbour took it to the vet (apparently it was pregnant so she gave it a cat abortion?) and found it wasn't micro-chipped or anything, so then my sister took it in and it's lived with her ever since. She's a very anti-social cat when it comes to other cats, but she loves being around my younger siblings.

well I've had about three gold fishes, unfortunately i can only remember the name of two of the fishes . i'm not allowed any fury animals like dogs, cats, rabbits etc.. Due to my mum having Asthma. she has been rushed to the hospital a few time when she had asthma attacks while visiting family members who own dogs.

when i was six my dad got me two fishes, Rainbow and Golden but Rainbow died the day after my dad got her i was quite upset but my dad told me not to cry because these things happen then he flushed Rainbow down the toilet. then my dad got me another fish so that golden wasn't lonely i can't remember what she was called, i think i named her after sally out of cars. she had black tips at the end of her fins but after a few months or years her fins turned all gold so i couldn't tell which fish was golden and which fish was Sally they both lived for about 5 or 6 years even though i rarely fed them because i kept forgetting to feed them. then one day i woke up and found one half of one of my gold fiches at the bottom of the tank, me and my dad thought the other fish ate half of the fish that died due to me not feeding them enough, but i will never know which fish died because sally and Goldie were the same colour. my dad then flushed the other half of the fish down the toilet. about a year later the other fish passed away and yet again my dad flushed her down the toilet.
after the other fish died i just decided not to get anymore fishes.

me and my dad was going to get a Roborovski hamster for my 13th birthday. but then i changed my mind because i just wanted to be on the safe side and not get a Roborovski hamster just in case my mum did have an asthma attack.

when i am old enough to move out and when i have enough money i am definitely going to get a pug or 2 because i absolutely love pugs even though i will be probably 10 or so years till i get one.

Mom doesn't like pets, so we never had any. I did however look after my cousin's guinea-pig for a week or so while they were on vacation. The little thing barely ate, barely drank anything, and squeaked all the time. Wasn't even cuddly. It only ran to hide every time I opened the cage. After that, I gave up any dreams of having pets (my plans included a horse in the garage, rabbits, aquariums, and you name it).

Aside from that, I've only ever had dust bunnies, and the occasional house-fly and spider. None of them lived very long...

Through out my life I've had:

6 dogs Harley (dead,) Treaver (dead,) Wizzer (ran away, never found,) Pooh Bear (alive, currently close to death,) Deuce (mom's German Shepard, alive,) and Ferris my current dog.

6 outside cats Martin (dead, put down,) Rocky (dead, hit by a car,) Bitty (dead, went missing for a year, turned out almost torn apart on my neighbor's back porch,) Pudge (dead, coyote attack, tore up her leg,) Bill (dead, dog attack,) and Bobbi Dylan (alive but I had to leave her at my dad's house.)

About a dozen gold fish bought in pairs that I ALWAYS named Lindsey and Robby after my step cousins (all dead.)

1 beta fish (dead but I'm about to get another one.)

1 crayfish (dead.)

Well, let's get this started. In my entire life so far I had: 1 aquarium full of fish, 2 dogs, 4 budgies and 5 cats, if it counts that they live on the street, are not even ours but we feed them.

My first budgie we got on a bird market that was in town, I was around, 5-6 years old that time. Never really was tame, constantly tried to nom my finger anytime I got my hand near him, his name was Chippi. When I was around 8 we got a buddy for him, named him Hansi. They got along nicely, even though they constantly argued when they were eating. Chippi died when I was 10, came home from school one day and saw him lying dead in the cage. First time I ever met Death. Chippi's death crushed me and I'm still not over it. Hansi lived a few more months before he died too, died while I was in school.

After a few years we got a new budgie from one of my dad's colleagues who breeds them. She was not even a year old and she became tame rather quickly, name was Hedwig. At first she just flew on my head and stayed there until I moved too quickly. After a year she even went on shoulders and fingers. Liked to nom on the fingers though and coming too close to her while she was in the cage meant biting. After several years we got another bird because Hedwig became pretty lonely and I'm only so much company. Got another young bird, Lumpy, and he was the scaredy type. Never let people come close but tried to cuddle with Hedwig even though she wanted space. My birds got several new cages, the best food, plenty of room to fly around in, an own bath and people as company. In June last year Lumpy died due to unknown causes, he just got weak all of a sudden, couldn't fly, ate a lot and tried getting close to me, he was all trusting all of a sudden. Next morning I only hear a loud bang and see him on the cage ground with all of his bones broken, even neck, but still alive. My dad ended his suffering and we buried him next to my 2 other birds. Hedwig died this summer, same day as Lumpy, due to old age. You don't know true emotional pain until you've seen your best friend slowly leaving forever. She was just lying on the cage ground, breathing slower every minute until she just stopped and closed her eyes. This left a permanent scar on my soul, it will never heal and it just ripped open by writing this, but it's not over yet.

On to my dogs, we had/have 2. One died due to old age and one we still got. My first dog, she had a German name, Biene, which translates into Bee, was what you could call the living vacuum cleaner. She ate everything and always begged, usually my parents gave in but I knew that food for people isn't always good for dogs so I rarely gave her some of my food, because I knew it can't be as good for her health. She was 2 years younger than me and she was with us for a good long time. When I was 15, I think, her old age caught up to her. She became weaker and weaker with every week and then with every day. She always had problems with her ears and her lungs, old age just gave her the rest. One evening my parents decided to take her for a last walk to the vet and put her to sleep. I don't know if she was buried but I hope. I felt awful for weeks after her death, I didn't want to talk to people, not even see people, I just felt like I was dying from the inside.

Right now, we got a Jack Russel Terrier named Lucy. A ball of energy that is always hungry and meows occasionally. She barks and growls as soon as she hears and sees another animal, doesn't matter if it's only on the TV. Outside she never barks, only growls then weeps when the other dog is out of sight. She's a weird dog, some dogs she just wants to eat while others she doesn't want to stop to play with. You could hand her over to a stranger for a week and she wouldn't really mind, she'd go with anybody. She really likes the vet. Other dogs throw themselves to the ground as soon as that word falls while my dog runs to the door and waits to be taken there. I hope she lives until her time comes, I couldn't survive it if she dies any other way except old age.

We also had an aquarium for a few years, it was filled with all sorts of fishes which names I can't be bothered to search for right now. The aquarium broke one night though but we managed to evacuate all of the fishes and gave them to my grandma who also had an aquarium. Sadly, most of our fish are dead now, even my favourite ones.

So that was the story about my pets, it ripped open a lot of soul scars and it will take a lot of time for me to get over this all. If you'll excuse me, I'll go cry on my bed now.

Had pets all my life. My oldest cat, Basia, has been with the family for a long time and is still going strong. I'm now fostering for Tenth Life and Stray Haven (we're up to 16, 17 cats now, I think - I lost count, but many of them are fosters. Some of the others we decided to adopt.) When I was younger we used to have two gerbils (they died several years ago) and a Britney (who also died several years ago). Along with the cats we're taking care of, we also have 4 dogs - a yellow lab, two westies, and a dachshund. It's fun, but hard work. Especially keeping the house clean, with all those cats running around.

I had a younger brother.

I had several dogs as a kid, but only two of them lived out their entire lives in my house. The rest were given to other caretakers. The first of the two dogs was our old neighbor's Malamute, named Harry. He really kept to himself and had a habit of marking his territory on all the things he could see outside. He died of old age.

The second, Maggie, was adopted from a family friend as a puppy. She was named that because she liked to eat Maggi noodles. Maggie was half Dalmatian, and possibly half Border Collie, so she looked like a white wolf with black patches and polka dots. She was a very playful sort and would go nuts with joy when I came back from school or university. She also had a huge bass bark that she used on the mailman, the charity truck, and other dogs. She died at 11 years old. I still miss her.

I'm not sure I want to get other pets, though, I fear I won't have the time to commit to them, and my mother doesn't like animals of any sort.

Had a betta fish (Diana) when I was a young child. Then I went through a couple more bettas whose names I forget (I apologize to them). We also had a hamster (Hammy) and I had a hermit crab that had a name at first (which I now forget) but eventually was just called "crab" or "the crab." Perhaps occasionally "crabby."

Then we "halfway adopted" a cat named Sebastian that was being taken care of by our neighbor at the same time. Eventually we gained full "custody" of the cat, and became friendlier with the neighbor. Unfortunately, he died when he was about six of cancer. That was in the spring of 2010. In the autumn/winter of 2010, we adopted two cats, Sally and Sadie, from the animal shelter. Then in the spring of 2011 we adopted a kitten named Sammy which we got for free from a yard sale.

The first pet my family had after I was born, was a kitten that was left with us by its mother, who belonged to our neighbours. They had about 30 cats at the time, most of them half-feral, so she had snuck away to have her kittens under our roof tiles. We kept the abandoned kitten, and she stayed with us for about a year. One day she was just gone, and never came back. I remember her very vaguely, since I was only 3 at the time.

Then we had this big, mean tabby, who beat up all the other cats in the neighbourhood. He never got neutered, despite Mom's wishes, because it was considered "animal abuse" at the time. Sometimes he's be gone for a couple of weeks at the time, and we'd wonder if he'd ever be home again. Then he'd turn up, limping, scabbed and starving. He was a very tolerant, affectionate cat towards humans, though. Also, he was a weirdo and a very picky eater. For several years, he lived on a diet concisting mostly of boiled liver and bread soaked in the cooking water. If he was given anything else, he'd sniff it, and scratch the floor while looking mournfully at us like "Dis iz poop. I buriez eet." He ate raspberries from the shrubs in the garden, however. When he was about 6 years old, he got a skin infection that just refused to go away. We had to have him put down when he was 7.

Between 11 and 16 I had a mini-rabbit, that my friend bought me for my birthday (much to my parents' chagrin). He'd spent his first year in a stable, and his previous owner referred to him as the worst rabbit ever. The tabby cat was terrified of him, and probably with good reason. Several years later, I was informed that rabbits will castrate each other if they have the chance, and that they'll try the same with cats. We didn't know this at the time, so like morons we tried to make them get along. The cat would flee in terror, with the rabbit bouncing behind. x)

Then we had a few hamsters. They didn't live very long.

My last pets were a pair of cats that lived to ripe old ages. The first of them was a black and white polydactyl. As a 15th birthday present, Dad gave me consent to adopt him. The fact that he was a bit drunk that night may have had something to do with it, because he didn't really want another cat after the ordeal with the previous one. (My Dad had a soft heart for animals.) We'd learned our lesson, and this one was neutered. Despite being unusually big, and dangerously strong, he was never much of a fighter. Instead, he became the neighbourhood's apex predator of everything small and scared. We secretly buried several types of endangered birds that he brought home. He'd bring home bigger and bigger prey, culminating in two fledgeling seagulls. On one notable occasion, he swallowed a starling whole, to stop our other cat from sniffing it. I wasn't there, but they said his eyes were bulging out of his skull as it went down. Oh, and I mentioned he was strong? If he latched onto your arm, you'd need assistance to pry him off. We had to rescue our smaller cat from him several times. He was a real wuzz about confronting cats (almost) his own size, though. As he got old, he mellowed down, and started taking an interest in dismantling household appliances instead. There was hardly a door in the house he couldn't open. One time, he spent several days working on detatching the paper-feeder from my printer, using his polydactyl paws as mittened hands. (He had a semi-opposable thumb. No, really! He did.) When he finally figured out that he had to lift it up and pull it out, at the same time, he predictably tumbled backwards with the paper tray landing on top of him. Don't worry, I had emptied it. He lived to 17 and a half. Maybe he was a terrible cat, but I really miss him.

Our other cat was a much smaller female Persian-mix. She was actually only 1/8th Persian, but dormant genetics had apparently come back after three generations. While she didn't have a flat face like modern Persians, her nose was notably shorter and wider than usual. She was our spoiled princess on a pea, I mean really. Very pretty, not all that smart. Her idea of hunting was to try to jump up and grab flying birds. Her favourite pastime was to sneak up on the big cat while he was sleeping, and bite him in the tummy. Apart from that, she was a sweetheart. She lived to be 16. Her deterioration, and the difficulties of getting her to a vet since I didn't have a car, were pretty terrible. I'm not getting another pet again until I have my own car.

Never really had a pet throughout my childhood. We had a mother and son pair of cats though. The mother died quite early on, but the son stuck around for a few more years after his mum passed. The only memory I have of him is perching on the window sill in the living room. My little sister was severely mentally and physically disabled so we kept the cat out of the living room for both hygiene reasons and so he didn't get his tail or whiskers pulled, and I tried to shoo him out. Unfortunately, being a moron four year old, I thought the best way to do so was to squish him against the window. He hissed at me, and I ran off crying to my mum. After he passed, we never had another one.

Then I moved in with my housemate, who had a dog. She died a year ago now, but that dog was a cute little devil. She took a real shine to me the very first time we met (according to my housemate, Candy almost never presented strangers with her favourite ball. Guess what I got within hours of moving in?), and I definitely became a play friend for her. My housemate was mainly for hugs and pettings, I was more playtime. With the occasional petting. It's hard to ignore a dog who comes along, grunts and repeatedly headbutts you, even if she's only small.

...It's also hard to ignore a dog standing on your ribcage and belching. Or farting. Goddamn it Candy no I don't want your gas.