I do have one of my parent's cat's ashes in my closet. Katherine, basically was my cat. Didn't like anyone in the family but me. She was more like a typical cat, but she meant a lot to me throughout my most of my childhood/adolescence. Family had her for 15-16 years. (I don't think I have many pictures of her myself though.)
Almost same, except a few tiny differences.
1. I had to put him down myself.
2. Buried him myself, too. (for awhile I had this irrational fear that I'd buried him alive)
3. Mostly black male /w 2 white spots, green eyes.
4. We never really gave him a name. He knew when we'd bring him food and would seek us out if he needed anything (depending on what he needed), and he'd drink milk and chase after cheese-curds like any good Wisconsin kitty.
5. I was pretty confident I could train him to make a beer-run (he died just a month short from being of legal age).
One of the few things on my phone that I regretted losing was the last (and presumably only) photo we took of him
-Ran into a photo I'd forgotten we'd taken a few years earlier while rummaging through the paint-cans in the basement.
Was kinda hesitant to get a 'replacement cat' afterwards. But "Gus" just kinda... happened. His original owner had died, and was caught by my brother rummaging the dorms around UW Madison. Was a scrawny 'lil cuddler that we nursed until he was a chubby cuddly bowling ball that'd tackle you at the door. (would NOT go outside, never again. Full Nope.)
... He died in my arms as I was taking him to the vet about 2 winters ago.
