I am owned currently by two cats, Apache and Dakota. Here you will find pictures of both of them, plus a picture of my late and forever beloved prior cat George.
We'll start with Apache. A mainly white tortoiseshell - the kind that seems to be known to Americans as a "Calico". She was going to be called "Patches", but when she started ambushing ankles within moments of arriving in our house, she was renamed "Apache".
This is her as a teeny kitten, aged 8 weeks.
And this is her fully grown. She seems to have a fondness for heights - always has to be on top of something.
These cabinets are about 10 foot off the floor, and Apache reaches the top in a single bound from a standing start - you'd swear she levitates!
And now on to Dakota (we seem to be going in alphabetical order!) My hubby calls Dakota our "little illegal immigrant". His mother was a very cute little stray cat in Gran Canaria and my friend fell totally in love with her. Arranged for her to be flown to Scotland and placed in quarantine here (the UK is free of Rabies and intends to remain that way. For many years we've maintained a six month quarantine for any animal being brought in from overseas. More recently a system of immunisation and "pet passports" has been introduced - but in Dakota's mother's case, this wouldn't have applied, as she was feral). So the cat was placed in the quarantine cattery, where the vet agreed "yes, she IS a cute cat - she's also very pregnant". Some weeks later, we acquired this odd looking little black and white cat. He nearly ended up being called "Gizmo" after the creature in "Gremlins" because his ears seemed to be WAY too big for his head - however he grew into his ears, and fortunately we'd decided he needed a name that matched his "sister". So "Dakota" he became.
I do have photos of him as a kitten somewhere - but I can't find them, so you'll just have to see him in his adult glory.
and even 
He also likes handbags. Like my handbag...
As a rule Apache and Dakota..... tolerate.... each other. I won't say they're close friends, but mostly they're not enemies. Sometimes they even behave like family
I promised you a photo of George - one of the few I could bear to keep when he crossed the Rainbow Bridge. George was with me for 14 years, from a teeny kitten to a dignified elderly gent. He was never neutered, but a totally indoor cat, somewhat shy with other cats (especially females - he hid from them!). Of course he didn't consider himself a cat - he was human. He spoke English.... well, he understood it quite well, and spoke a few words. Surprised more than one person who heard him calling out to my husband "Cowlin" (Colin)! He was VERY clear on the meaning of the word "brush" - and you had to be careful not to say the word in his presence unless you intended to actually groom him! As you can see he knew well how the instrument was used - and would direct it where he needed!
