First thing I remember about Lucky was when we got as a kitten. I was still in primary school. I'd been away on camp or something and had been told I had a suprise at home waiting for me when I got back. Dad had already named him after the cat in the TV show, ALF. We lived in an old farmhouse about twenty kilometres out of town. Petrol didn't cost as much back then. There was this little tabby kitten, with a white bib and a pink nose playing on the steps, scampering up and down them chasing nothing. He was always my cat. Slept on my bed, sat on my lap when I was watching television. It was my job to feed him and stuff. He used to fight the wild farm cats as he got older. His little pink nose became scarred and old fast. When he was inside he'd gallop back and forth up the passages or hide under things and spring out to attack, particularly if there were bare feet around. Outside he'd climb trees or get on top of the house and meow for me to get down. He didn't take moving into town very well.