Tribble was my cat from Day One. My daughter, June, who lived in Connecticut, gave him to me for Christmas in the mid-1980s and we bonded on the car trip back to my home on Cape Cod. He was the cutest kitten I'd ever seen and purred like a mini-motorcycle.

After the death of my first husband, Ken, in 1993, I would cuddle Tribble and cry into his fur until he was soaking wet. Yet he never tried to jump down. He would get the sweetest look on his face, seeming to know he was comforting me.

Tribble was an indoor cat but I would put a harness and leash on  him and take him for walks. One day he got out and I searched the neighborhood, finally finding him up the hill from home, sprawled out and stretching in the sun. He ignored me when I called until I finally went back for his harness and leash and jingled them. He came running to me to take him for his walk!