After five years of marriage, Boots was our first pet. (I insisted on adding the Roman numeral II behind his name to honor another black and white cat that shared my life when I was a child, also named Boots.) He came into our lives as a kitten born on a dairy farm in Denbigh area of Newport News in the summer of 1972. The Yoders called him 'Ringo" because of a white ring near the tip of his tail. That first night he cried all the way to his new home in Hampton. He was small and perhaps had been separated from his mother a bit prematurely. Marian fed him milk out of a paper cup, she cut down to his size, by dipping her finger into the milk and then allowing Boots to lick her finger until he gor the idea to lap directly from the cup.

We taught Boots to walk while wearing a harness, by laying a trail of treats (Cat Crackers) to entice him to move along the floor throughout our house. He never had a carrier; when we went outside of the house, he wore his harness. Boots loved to ride in the car... when Marian drove to the Newport News shipyard to pick me up after work, he rode along... when I drove her to work at Hampton Heights dairy, he rode along.

The last few years of his life were filled with doctor visits, IV's and shots. But through it all, he remained calm and never complained. Dr. Freed, DVM even mentioned how Boots was such a "good patient". There were times when we would rush home from work, drive Boots to Dr. Freed's, wait for them to draw his blood, drive him back home, then drive to Riverside Hospital's lab with the blood specimen. Eventually, with consideration of his age (approaching 16), we decided to "let nature take its course" and cease medical treatment. This was a difficult decision, but one we felt was right.

The night before Palm Sunday, March 26 1988, we found Boots lying upstairs... not moving... we thought it was over. As I lifted his body, I discovered he was still alive, but had possibly suffered a stroke. We rushed him to the Peninsula Emergency Veterinary clinic and humanely ended his suffering.

Boots will always be remembered for his love of all kinds of food, especially fried chicken; and the way he would stand on my chest waiting to share the last few licks of ice cream from a stick.