I'm not sure I'm doing lists this year, and he was only 3 years old so that's not much of a list, but in cat years that's like 21, right? So here are 21 reasons I loved Blackers:
- Blackers was a good hunter. He often brought me dead things, including a gopher, a mouse, and half of a black bird scattered around my bathroom.
- Blackers had a great singing voice. I couldn't help but smile when he sang to the birds at the feeders. The big birds got him most excited.
- Blackers was wicked. He always drew blood when he'd bite my arm and kick my legs - a ritual we practiced everyday.
- Unfortunately, he was also wicked to other cats, particularly O.C. I didn't blame him (though I did squirt him). I knew it was just in his nature.
- Having grown up in Kuwait City, Blackers spoke Farci. He totally responded when our Palestinian neighbor spoke to him in his native tongue.
- Blackers was stealthy. I could tell he enjoyed popping out of the darkness and pouncing on my freshly showered legs.
- Blackers never made me worry. He was always at home and he would never let a stranger abduct him.
- Blackers made me proud, being super tough at the vet. He even bent the needle when he was in for a routine vaccination.
- Blackers was also brave, particularly when he had to sit in the tree for an hour while our evil neighbor weed whacked his yard and refused to put his ever barking dogs inside.
- Blackers learned from his mistakes. I never saw him in the dog yard again.
- Blackers was athletic. He often ran up trees just to see if he could.
- He was also vain. He'd often test his waist line but seeing if he could still fit in the crack between the garage and the neighboring shed.
- Blackers had expensive taste in food. He accepted only the best.
- Blackers was dense, bigger than he looked, and that boy was ripped. We think it's cuz he was neutered late but it's also due to his breed.
- Blackers was shiny. He had this great short coat that just glistened in the sun.
- As my Aunt Fran once told her son, my cuzen Bob, Blackers was handsome but not particularly photogenic.
- Blackers was determined. He really didn't care about the Super Soaker peace maker. He wouldn't leave the house until he decided the fight was over.
- He also refused to be caged. He once escaped out the kitchen window when he was trapped inside for the cat sitter.
- He kept his bladder to himself. This is rather unusual for a cat.
- He did, however, love to scratch the couches. But now I'm sort of glad as I have something to remember him by.
- Finally, he went quickly, hopefully without any suffering. We're calling him our James Dean of cats - living large, dying young, being unbearably handsome the whole time. Like James Dean, the loss of Blackers is a tragedy, but like the actor, my cat was a treasure who will now become a legend...
I am also grateful for photographs, which help me remember my kitties. I only wish I had more and better pictures.
And I am grateful for the bouncy new tires on my old truck as they will take me safely to Oakland to visit the eldest nieces. I've got to leave right away or I'll have to wait hours to miss the traffic, so ta for now...
1 comment:
What a perfectly wonderful ode to Blackers. And if there is ever an award for a perfect sentence, you should win it for this one, "We're calling him our James Dean of cats - living large, dying young, being unbearably handsome the whole time." Good grief, I love that.
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