Dayn Riegel and his 77 roommates are between addresses right now.

He recently left one home in Lawrenceville and hasn't moved to his new one yet, so Riegel is staying with friends. With him are his girlfriend, Phyllis Iffrig, and Akuma, their agreeable white Samoyed.

His 75 other roomies? They're staying with other friends --- in garages, on beds, sitting atop cars and curling between legs. They're cats.

Seventy-five cats. You could call Riegel the Car Max of cats: He's got 'em all. A 2003 tabby? Sure. A black-and-white female, vintage 2001? There must be one around here somewhere...

Seventy-five cats. In the nine-life universe of felines, that's 675 lives.

Seventy-five cats. Many people don't have 75 of anything.

But Riegel does, and, until earlier this month, he had them in a three-bedroom, two-bath ranch home in Lawrenceville. "They all mean something to me," said Riegel, 33, a self-employed information technology consultant.

It began with Khaos, a black, domestic shorthair Riegel discovered at a Delaware mall. When he headed to metro Atlanta eight years ago from West Chester, Pa., little Khaos came with him.

They settled in Gwinnett, where Riegel discovered stray cats were as commonplace as fast cars. Rather than cuss 'em, he coaxed 'em into his house. They came singly and by the family, surly old toms and skittish young moms. Word about the cat man spread, and Riegel's feline inventory grew.

Rogue, Thumper, Minnie: Khaos reluctantly made way for the newcomers. Dennis, Dot, Cracker, Gateway: They crept in on little feet. Noodle, Danzig, Fuzzy, Jackie, Squunk.

Riegel began a computer database to track his cats, noting each creature's acquisition date, health needs and other characteristics that distinguish, say, Thumper from Squunk.

Riegel estimated he has taken in more than 300 cats since moving here, adopting out at least 250.

Since not all got adopted, Riegel's personal supply grew. Some cats staked out space in the two-car garage where vehicles never venture. Others selected favored spots where the sun would shine. When Riegel turned down the covers at night, six cats sometimes jumped up to join him --- more, if the night were chilly. Anyone who sat in a chair usually got a cat in the lap.

http://www.ajc.com/saturday/content/...8f0a9002b.html