Purle

Of all the cats we've had, Purle was probably the smallest; she must have been the runt of her litter. At the same time, she was the loudest...her nickname was "The Mouth of the South" for good reason. She would greet me when I came home from work with screeches of "Feed Me!" even though her bowl was full. She was small enough that if I happened to be sleeping in, she would jump up into bed, walk right up to my face and screech "Good morning feed me' to get me out of bed. As a I yawned to wake up, she would seem to stick her head in my mouth to check out what was in there. Purle passed away at home on Sunday, July 31, 2016, at the age of 17. It's been awful quiet around here since that day.