Years (and I do mean years) ago I had a cat. A lovely red tabby called Godzilla. He was great, I was too embarrassed to shout 'Godzilla!' from the back step so I taught him to answer to a whistle.
Anywaaay, I used to draw comic strips for my neices based around the exploits of Godzilla (apparently their mother still has the cartoons, I must ask her to find them out next time I'm there).
I can't remember all of them but the few that I do:
Godzilla meets the Pirates (drawn on 'parchment' - coffee-stained and then singed - to look like an old treasure map including wax seal), Godzilla meets the Spice Gulls (yes, Sporty Gull, Scary Gull etc..), Godzilla in Wonderland
He would also appear in their birthday or christmas cards but unfortunately he ran away and that was the end of the Godzilla strips. I couldn't bring myself to draw them again. I loved that cat.
I'd just moved and my mother let him out the house after only six days even though I had expressly warned her not to. Me - "Eeeeeh... where's me bloody cat??", Mother - "Oh he's outside, he'll come back he'll be okay".
This is the first time I've drawn the character since Godzilla buggered off into the great, wide unknown.