This is George, one of many cats who have been part of my family. I took this photo in front of my parents' house in Bethany Beach sometime in the mid to late 1980s. I think he looks very noble.
As a kitten, George came to live with my Grandmother for the last part of her life. He was the quietly purring presence on her lap when we came to visit. He took her death hard (we all did) and had a rough transition to the larger family life.
I remember George bolting from my parents' place when they brought him home; he hid for a long time under the neighbor's porch and several of us sat nearby hoping to entice him out with friendliness.
He eventually settled in, but brought a surly, put-upon attitude to the house. Yet he remains one of my favorite cats. Despite his testiness, I always felt a close bond with George. He would as soon punch you with a balled-up paw as rub against your leg, but he frequently did both. A friendly nod from George was a wonderful treat.
George grew to be a large, muscular lion-like cat. Out among the dune-plants at the Bethany house he seemed very like a jungle king.