Winky came from a farm to reside with my parents. He was a well loved practical and very typical DS, grey, tabby, neutered male cat with green eyes and a white bib. He was about two years old when I arrived. He was adopted shortly after my parents married and legend has it that he was very clever and well disposed to indoor life. Winky was a good mouser and a pragmatic survivor which became ever more important as the war progressed and the food ran out.
My mother also adopted a beautiful wire-haired terrier for me, called Angus. Angus didn't last too long in our household because unlike Winky, he couldn't adapt to wartime rations. Whereas Winky would eat bread soaked in milk augmented with the occasional mouse, Angus sickened without meat. He was given to an elderly gentleman who could afford the luxury of feeding a dog.
Frankly, I don't remember anything about Angus except what I saw later in photos. I had little relationship with him, but I do remember Winky. He was always with me. He slept in my room and I recall touching his fur and staring into his eyes as we lay together in my crib. He was my comfort and possibly the foundation for the sense of well-being I have in the company of cats.
There was also a goldfish. I don't recall if the fish had a name. Winky was entranced by the fish, but I'll save that for another day.
