I made the mistake earlier this week of going through old photographs. I didn't find what I wanted but I did find pictures of many of the cats that have been in my life. Or I in theirs, depending on your pespective.
I don't have a picture of the first cat in my life. Her name was Eno, she was named by my brother after Brian Eno. Well, mum had wanted to call her Jesse after Jesse James as she was into American "wildwest" history at the time.
My next cat we called Darwin. Mum suggested Einstein as we (my then bf and I) were both scientists. However, this cat was too stupid – even for a cat – to be named after Einstein.
We called him Darwin as he liked to climb up everything and so was obviously descended from monkeys.
(It is actually quite uncomfortable to have a cat around your neck – at least that's my excuse for the face!)
I then had Jackanapes, shortened to Napes. The name came from my then bf (a different one from the one with whom I shared Darwin) who liked the Dr Who quote:
She looks like a Jackanapes, but the eyes tell a different story
I left Napes to come to the US (bf left us both to move to Oz) and pretty soon after I adopted sisters Olaf and Bjork.
Olaf (on the left) was named after a viking saint who raped and pillaged his way around Yorkshire before turning to Christianity on his deathbed. Bjork was named, by my roommate, after the Icelandic singer.
I left the Viking duo in Cleveland when I moved to Minnesota. It did feel at this time that when cats hit two years old, I hit the road. Unfortunately, Olaf got knocked down by a car about six months after I left. Bjork as far as I know is jamming it up with my old roommate in New York somewhere.
In MN I roomed with some one who already had a cat. Who didn't like me. The cat that is not my roommate. The cat was misnamed Frisky and I don't have a picture. To keep Frisky sane and to help out her daughter, my roommate adoped Murphy, whom you have met before. When Murphy was about two, I moved to DE. To break the cat-Cat curse I kidnapped Murphy and bought him with me. Or my roommate smuggled him into the moving van when I wasn't looking to get rid of him. Take your pick.
Oh all right, the Murphy story. Murphy drove Frisky nuts, trying to mount her, despite being neutered. Also Frisky was declawed (a cruel American custom IMO) and Murphy wasn't, so she couldn't train him properly. If that wasn't all, my roommate was/is a fiber artist and Murph decided all fiber art created by her was, by rights, his to kill and destroy. You couldn't even hang her work on the wall as he would just sit there and jump and jump and jump and jump until you found him running around the flat with it in his mouth. So I got/took Murphy, who I say was named after Murphy's Law. If something has gone wrong, it was the cat!