I got Mikey in 1994, right after I moved to California. He came from the Oakland Pound. They found him in a dumpster. $40 and one quick surgery later, and I had myself a second cat.
Mike was very sweet, but not entirely the smartest or fastest cat in the world. He drooled when he was happy, purred only very very quietly, and was rarely seen by any but a select few. He had a heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, which finally took him from us in March 2003 (he was 10; his vet told me eight years earlier that he might not live more than 6 months). We now have him buried in the back yard, where we can easily dig him up should science ever advance to allow us to clone him.
How most people see Mike
Mike with stepsister Ana
White fur, dark rug, bright sunlight
Mike prefers not to be squeezed
Mike peeks out of his nap spot in the office window