I was 9. I'd just finished third grade, which was miserable. I had not yet caught the truly impressive case of chickenpox that would make that summer so memorable, or started the new school that would turn me into the recluse I am today.
I had a gray and white long haired male cat, who was my best friend int he world. He weighed over 30 pounds. He was a good natured, affectionate feline, and as far as I was concerned the greatest cat in the world.
In June, I entered him in a pet show sponsored by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. I think they didn't notice the other cats. Because he was named Grand Champion. I still have the trophy and ribbon somewhere. Coming home that night, I felt like a queen, and the next day I brought in the paper, and saw the cat and I on the front page. I don't think the cat cared. But it was a pretty glorious day for me.