We are a cat family, apart from the occasional goldfish, and we've had a number of feline companions over the years. I'd say the cat trend began when Mom and Dad were first married, living in Texas with a cat named Critter who alerted Mom to a snake in the house one day, earning her respect forever for its brave behaviour.
The first family cat I remember was Dracula, a black furred fellow we had in Seattle. Dracula took up residence with neighbours who welcomed him into their home, complete with his favourite chair, when we left the USA to live in New Zealand.
Once settled in Auckland NZ, Larrikin joined the family, a short-haired grey cat that someone said was a 'British Blue' although this pedigree was much in doubt. I don't remember too much about him, apart from him liking the smell of a baking Angel Food cake.
We moved to a new house when I was at university and Greta came to live with us. She was a very shy tabby cat (named after Greta Garbo who, apparently, once said, 'I vant to be alone'). On her first day, she climbed to the top of my tall bookshelf, pissed down the spine of my book of TS Eliot poems, and wouldn't come down for days. She lived up there with a litterbox and food delivery until she decided it was safe to come down. Even then, she was desperately shy, hiding under chairs, in wardrobes, under boxes. We didn't see her much.
Then came Pussy-Bomb, my sister's fluffy, tiny, cross-eyed, furiously manic cat who would spit and claw at everyone apart from my sister. P-B liked to follow us down to the beach, using it as a giant sandbox/litter tray. Around this time we also had another cat Mom named Critter in honour of the one that had saved her from the snake, and then I think that was all. This Critter-cat seemed to have spatial orientation problems, often charging full tilt into table legs. She was also the one who caught mice, brought them inside, and ate them under the dining table, leaving only the head.
I do remember that when the cats were nearing the end of their lives, it was Mom who took them to the vet for a peaceful departure. No one else could bear to do it.
Of course I had cats too - but that's fuel for another story. Suffice to say, these days I enjoy the company of my next door neighbour's two cats, Miss Poppy and Mr Boy, who come over regularly to wander about in the house, sleep on the couch, open the cupboards, and hide in the loft, as cats are wont to do.