Around June 2002, Punky was adopted at a very young age, likely around 2 months. She was a fuzzy little ball of absurdity who drove me up the wall – the legend written by me goes that she didn’t have a name for a few days after she was unleashed on me, and in a fit of frustration, I called her a punk – hence Punky.
She had many adventures in her early life, living on Sidney street, eating cigarettes, dry sausage and pizza, meeting tiny other cats and destroying other people’s houses in the process.