[Evans, Marv]

Well, my first pet was a cat I named "Brownie."
My family (of five) moved here in 1947 from the mid west and bought a 25 ft. trailer house to live in next to a junk yard. I saw this cat walking in the junk yard & asked my mother if I could have it. She told me it was a wild cat, but if I could tame it, I could keep it. The junk yard was guarded by dobermans and shephards, so if a cat grew to adulthood, it was a pretty good cat. This cat was almost full grown.
I started putting scraps through the 8 ft. fence when he was around, and he became used to that. Next I put it on my side of the fence. He would soon appear on my side of the fence to eat. Bit if he saw anyone in the area, he was gone in an instant. We had a little wooden sort of deck in the front, and I slowly moved the food from near the fence to the corner of the deck. After that, I would watch out the door of the trailer & watch him eat - after he was accustomed to that. Next I stood on the outside step. Next I moved a step closer each day. As you can see this thing took a month & a half or more.
Eventually I could stand next to the food dish, but he would always move to the opposite side. Also eventually I reached down to touch him, which caused him to take off instantly. After awhile, I could touch him while he was eating and stroke him. But each time I stroked him, he would growl.
He got to where he would hang around and one day we were leaving ('46 Olds), and he was walking on the little white picket fence at the front of the yard. I walked over, picked him up in my arms, petted him a couple of times and dropped him on the ground & got into the car & left. After that I could handle & pet him, but nobody else could touch him.
Eventually my parents bought a little house, and the last thing we took over there was the cat. He wasn't a bit happy in the car.
Our little house had a front yard that went out to the pavement in the street. After a few days of keeping him in the house, my mother ordered that he had to go outside to stay. So I picked him up and put him out on the little 3 ft. or so square concrete porch. He looked both ways, stuck his tail up, and walked out into the center of the yard and laid down on his side. I, my two sisters, and my mother were looking out of the window to see if he would try to run away or not.
During that time, Cocker Spaniels were the popular dog. So in about 15 minutes a Cocker Spaniel came trotting down the street. When he got to the far corner of the yard, his eyes got really big, and he stopped. You could see he was thinking, "Ah, there's a cat to chase." He started running at top speed straight for the cat, who was still sleeping on his side. We got upset & told my mother to stop the dog, but she said the cat had to take care of himself. When the dog was about six feet from the cat running at full speed, the cat all of a sudden was up in the air a couple of feet. The dog started back peddling and stopped right under the cat, who landed on his back and rode him down a couple of houses yowling, scratching, and clawing. The cat jumped off, came back to the same place in the yard, and went to sleep again. About 20 minutes later another Cocker Spaniel came down the street, and the same scene was repeated. After that, the cat could sleep in the front yard peacefully without any harrassment from dogs.
He stayed out all of the time and spent his nights fighting. His face and ears were scarred and shredded, but on weekends and vacations I would go out in the back yard early in the morning and lay down in the grass. He would come & set on my chest & I would pet him & feed him.
We moved to another town about 150 miles away and took him with us. He was probably about 8 years old when he died under an out building.
He was my first pet named Brownie.

I can't believe I wrote all of this!