I don't remember much about Daisy and Penny. I was around 5 or 6 years old when I had them. My family was living in a little house, an apartment, really, and we were new to the country, but I really wanted a friend and cats were easy to adopt in our city. Lots of shelters. So, we got them and they lived with us, slept in my room, and I cherished them so much. I remember that much. They were the cutest things in the world to me. I still believe that a nice, calm cat could be my best friend in life. Really, cats are amazing animals. They sleep, eat, cuddle, paw at things. Dogs are just as good, don't get me wrong, but the two are great in their own unique way. Anyway, my family eventually moved to a bigger house, but the landlady we were renting from refused to allow any pets. So, my dad and my uncle took our cats and dropped them off in the streets. A sad ending to their time with us. I still hate what happened to them. I hope they lived. I hope they found a way to make it. Realistically, they probably didn't. But that reality is much too agonising to think about. I don't know what really happened afterward. I do know that I loved them for the brief time I held them. I know that much.