In 1998, a neighborhood boy brought me a hissy little striped furball. He was about six weeks old, terrified, malnourished, and flea-bitten. His back legs were weak and he didn't look like he stood much of a chance. My mother named him Sparky since it was so close to the Fourth of July. I added the 'Fuzzypants'. He turned into a beautiful mancat and he shared my life for thirteen years.