It was like the names of the seven dwarfs or those reindeers. But in the courtyard (pronounced courtch-yard) we had (to the tune of that reindeer song) Mikey and Kushna, Skinny and Bob, Frisky and Blackie and that randy-like Tom...
Hartstein the cop hated them and was constantly yelling at us to stop playing with them. But except for Marcy's dad's fish, those cats were the closest thing any of us got to having a pet. (I don't count the summer I had snails.) (Or the gerbil that kept dying.)
