I can't really say much about the day Boots joined the family since it happened a few days after I was born in April of 1986. From what I've heard, my uncle received her from a friend at work as a gift, and what a nice gift she was. Since she was born before me, I was used to her always being around whenever I went to my grandma's house, so of course it took some getting used to when she died. When the little black and gray tabby first arrived, she was accompanied by a Siamese cat named Samantha (Sam for short) and two labs in the backyard nicknamed Blackie and Brownie. Later that year, around Thanksgiving, a new companion came: a purebred ragdoll cat who my brother and sister would later name Fluffy, a stray kitten who wandered her way to my grandparents' house and soon made herself at home there. Eventually, Blackie, Brownie, and Sam all died one by one, leaving only Boots and Fluffy, and since Boots had been around humans longer, she became the dominant cat. In 1990, they were joined by a new dog who had also once been a stray: a golden retriever mixed with other breeds including hound and lab named Lucky. Like most tabbies and golden retrievers, Boots and Lucky soon became the best of friends. In about 1993 or 1994, my aunt got a chihuahua named Vicky from the same breeder who bred our chihuahua, Ginger, and later on, my aunt gave Vicky to my grandparents. It was a happy family of two dogs, two cats, and two humans until February 16, 1997. My grandma found Boots beaten half to death, unable to see through her barely existant eyes anymore and only able to find her way to the carport by the sound of her owner's voice. The vet theorized that either someone ran over her with a car or, worse, some cruel animal abuser took a bat or some other object of the like and beat her in the face with it. There was nothing the vet could do to save her, so he put her to sleep. Out of all my bad childhood memories, losing Boots was the most traumatic and left me with the most scars. Though her death brought us great sadness, one good thing came out of it: Fluffy had room to grow more open to human contact. It sickens me to think that someone may have possibly done this to her on purpose, but either way, it won't bring Boots back. All I have left of her is pictures to remember her by.