Remembering Puddy

In the spring of 1974, my then husband and I decided that the cat that was climbing our legs for food at our new flat must be a stray. We soon discovered that she was a pregnant stray. As students we didn't think we should let her have her kittens, so the vet gave her an abortion. We had lots of ambitious for names for our new cat, but by now she answered to Puddy (as in I tought I taw a Puddy Tat) so Puddy it was. She was probably about 2 years old. She was a pretty semi-longhaired tabby with a gingery tinge, huge eyes and a fluffy tail. Puddy was the start of my cat collection. Two years later Biggles arrived, and since then, except for a few weeks after Biggles' death at the age of almost 15, I have never had fewer than 2 cats. In total, since 1974 - 38 years - I've had 10 cats, and still have 6 of them. Puddy must have been nearly 20 when she died on 4th June 1992, and to this day I cannot talk about the tragic accident that led to her lonely, frightened death. She was such a beauty.