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Sunday, April 4, 2010

black cat - warning: boring cat story

Although I like cats (as evidenced by the 7 I have) I don't like cat things such as towels or jewelry, and I try not to talk too much about cats because let's face it, unless the person you're talking to loves them as much as you, any tales about your cat will only be a bore. Nevertheless, today I am going to tell you about my black cat - because he's worth mentioning.

Many years ago when I worked at the glass company, I went up to Pinkham’s Plantation to get some flowers for the front of the building. While walking around the beds and ornamental shrubs I spotted a black cat and bent down to pat it. One of the employees asked if I liked cats. Ha! Do I like cats. Of course I like cats!

"We have kittens." I was told.

And if you know me, you know I cannot resist a kitten. There is nothing cuter. Except maybe a Pomeranian puppy.

"Do you have any black ones?" I asked, having recently lost my last black cat, Ty.

They brought down the kittens and since I only had 2 at the time I picked out a very black kitten with a tiny spot of white on his chest who soon turned into a little black cat from hell, tearing around the house, up and down my corner cupboard, wild-eyed and crazy. But every night he came and snuggled beneath my chin and purred, until he was too big to fit, after which he settled close by.

He is now an experienced black cat who has had many adventures, including a 3 week vacation to who knows where, a one week stint locked away in some greasy garage or barn in the dead of winter, and many overnighters in the woods. He was never much of a birder but he brought home plenty of star-nosed moles, countless mice, and an occasional chipmonk. He has had run ins with the unknown, losing part of his tongue in one encounter and being attacked on his very own porch by some creature whose tracks were the only thing I found. He finally came back hours later, wary and watchful, while I had given up a New Year's Eve celebration to wait for him.

These days he doesn't go out much, sleeping most of the day away in my room. If he does venture out it's usually for a short jaunt around the neighborhood. He drinks a lot of water. His bloodwork is no longer within the normal range. His days are now numbered.

His name is Jasper.

1 comment:

  1. Lovein' the name, Jasper, Marcy. And we love our names, don't we. lol.
    S~

    ReplyDelete

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