At 6am on Friday morning, our oldest cat succumbed to kidney failure. She was 20 - quite the ripe old age.

Twenty years ago, I called the Humane Society in Abilene, Texas looking for a cat. The lady there said that I was in luck as a 4 month old kitten was available for adoption that day. Her brother had been adopted earlier that week and was lonely for some company. We snatched her up. Little did we know the ornery, willful cuss we took into our homes.

On the way home, she bit my wife. Over the next few weeks before we could get her fixed, she tore up our apartment curtains with her incessant need for climbing. Every turn, she pushed her boundaries, till we were properly trained in her eyes. One example was the kitchen counters. We started scolding her and putting her down when she got up on them, and moved to spraying her with a squirt gun. She set upon a devious campaign. Whenever we were in the kitchen, she would sit on a chair infront of the passthrough bar and look at us . . . devilishly cutely. This went on for the better part of a week. Then she started putting her paws on the bar. A few days later, she was up to her elbows. The following week, she had progressed to putting her upper half on the passthrough bar. When she realized saw that we hadn't squirted her, she boldly hopped up on the bar. That week, she positioned herself closer to us, untill she was at the edge of the bar, almost into the kitchen. Then she started hanging her paws over the side, till they touched the sink. It was quite hilarious to see her pushing the boundries. Naturally we relented and the counters were allowed.

She was always full of sass. She constantly talked back. Always had to have the last word. If she didn't get her way, she would meander off and mumble vicious epithets under her breath. She could be worse than a child at times.

We had only had a Christmas tree up, once in our apartment. She put an end to that when when got caught in the garland and pulled it over. Quite a mess.

Her named changed through the years. When we brought her home, we named her Jan. She refused to respond to it. After seeing her energy, we started calling her Jazz. She seemed to like this . . . for a while. A few years later, she stopped responding to that. For some reason we started calling her Lina. This name stuck. We all seemed to like it. It got lengthened to her full name of Lina Mae Binswanger. Don't ask, because we don't even remember how that came about.

When get adopted a brother for her, she hissed at him for about a week. Once he was properly cowed. She accepted him. She would spend great amounts of time cleaning him, then once properly quaffed and preened, she would set about beating the snot out of him.

She learned how to open the screen windows and escape our apartment. However, it always seemed like she would wind up at our front door whining to get back in.

She had an amazing knack of wanting attention the very moment you were about to drift off to sleep.

One of her favorite things was riding in cars. It was amazing how much she would enjoy sitting on the back of our truck's seat and watch the cars and trucks pass by. She was a good passenger. Another favorite hobby was sitting on whatever you were reading. Her favorite food was bread. She went crazy for bread and would steal rolls off of your plate if you were not mindful.

Lina was certainly a character and I will certainly miss her. She could certainly be a pain, but she could also be a good friend. I count myself lucky to have had her with me for so long.