The Laughton Family Cats

Popsicle & Tiger

Popsicle and Tiger as Kittens

The Story of Popsicle and Tiger

Once upon a time in 1985, a young girl named Sarah wanted a cat. Here parents were not particularly fond of the idea. Now Sarah is very powerful person and is often able to create want she wants. In this case, a neighborhood stray cat, Honey, managed to get herself pregnant. When it came time for Honey to give birth, she choose our back yard. Suddenly we found ourselves responsible for five very cute kittens. Two of the kittens were of a long haired gray variety, one was mostly black (like Honey), and the other two (Popsicle and Tiger) obviously had a Siamese daddy. Most of these kittens were very leery of humans and avoided us whenever possible. One kitten, Popsicle, seemed to like being picked up and other wise handled by the three year old Sarah. She decided that Popsicle was her cat and that was that. I really thought Tiger was cute with his little clown face. We ended up with two cats. We managed to provide good homes for the two of the other cats. The last kitten was raised by its mother to maturity and vanished one day along with Honey.

Popsicle is definitely Sarah's cat. She will often curl up for her frequent naps in whatever room Sarah settles down in. Tiger is definitely Kathleen's cat. While Tiger is bit a curmudgeon with Popsicle and with most people, he is often seen demanding that Kathleen sit down and pat him - right now!

A Cuddly Carnivore

The cat crouches in the grass; intent on her prey, she is oblivious to all else. She does not feel the breeze ruffling her fur, does not hear the wind chimes tinkling, does not see me watching her...

She holds herself low to ground. Her body taut as a bow string, her only movement the slow twitching of her tail.

The aura of wild power she emanates is amazing coming from the much beloved puff ball who spends most of the day purring and sleeping in inconvenient places.

The unsuspecting bird pecks for whatever it considers edible.

Slowly, carefully, the cat moves forward, seeming to flow along the ground as she stalks her intended meal. She seems excited, probably at the prospect of fresh meat to relieve the every day, distasteful monotony of dry cat food (if I had to eat that stuff Id kill birds too).

Head cocked, the bird looks her way; she freezes, and the short sighted avian goes back to searching through the grass.

I am reminded that this, the creature that sleeps in my bed with her head tucked under my chin, is also a vicious predator, dangerous to something other than rubber bands and shoe laces and unattended bowls of ice cream.

She crouches to spring. Something startles the bird. It takes flight.

The cat looks surprised and annoyed. Then she licks her shoulder and stalks off as if saying "I never really was interested in catching that bird".

Sarah Laughton, 1995

One of Tiger's favorite catoons is Dilbert.

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