My dear cat Fatty died over the weekend. She was 15 or 16 years old, and came to live with us after the neighbors she'd lived with moved away and left her behind. They'd adopted her from a shelter, so she had an uncertain early life, but she had great spirit and a big personality, that helped her maneuver in the world until she landed at my house.
The neighbors named her Cleo, but giving nicknames based on physical attributes is a Mexican sign of affection and familiarity, so she became Fatty to me. Ironically, when she got sick over the last few months, she shrunk down to half her highest weight.
She was very photogenic, and she liked to "talk" and "sing." Here's a favorite post I wrote in 2007 about Fatty, with one of my favorite photo sequences of her.