I confess: I’m a reformed smoker.
“There’s nothing worse,” people say, “than a reformed smoker.”
I’m not so sure about that. I can think of a lot of things worse than a reformed smoker (a radical anything, for example) but it’s too soon for me to veer off point.
So, back to the beginning: I’m a reformed smoker. The Sepia Saturday photo intrigued me, for I’ve never in my life seen a vending machine that dispenses a lit cigarette – how did they do that, anyway?
I never smoked a Black Cat, but I sure do own one...
This is Howard – Howard Paine Gould, to be formal about it all. I always name my pets after my forebears; Howard is named after a great-uncle of mine, one who thoughtfully left me some money (I figure that anybody who leaves me money deserves the honor of having an animal named for him)! My great-uncle was a bachelor; this Howard is, too, although I suspect for entirely different reasons.
He’s a domestic longhair (maybe a bit of Coon) with absolutely enormous feet, impressive ear tufts and a magnificent ruff. He’s solid black – at night, when his eyes are shut, he’s nearly invisible.
He’s lived with me for nearly twelve years now, providing just enough interaction to provide companionship while maintaining (fiercely) his independence.
He has his own door (one of those nifty pet doors cut into my dining room wall – it opens out to the back porch) so comes and goes whenever he wishes; I secure that door only during blizzards – I don’t want him wandering around when the snowplows are active.
He used to bring wildlife back home through that door, but has calmed down a lot now that he’s older! He used to sort his prey: things that could fly went into the toilet bowl; things that crawled went into the bathtub (from where they could not escape, you see, thus providing hours of entertainment...). I tried everything to curb his enthusiasm: different harnesses and even a bell, but he learned to trap the bell underneath his chin to prevent the noise.
He has several daily chores: he rearranges all the bed pillows every day (I am not questioning motive here), keeps gray squirrels off the back porch, watches my neighbor’s rabbits, helps with the weeding in the flower gardens and warms the east end of the living room couch in the evenings.
And he’s there each and every morning, snoozing on his window seat, waiting for his breakfast.
So there’s my Black Cat, one that’s far better for me than the smoke-able kind, don’t you think?
To see what other Sepians have to offer, visit http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com