Our Furry Black Felines

These furry felines make my heart sing.

If Junior Cat was a human, I think he would have aspirations on being a comedian. He loves the limelight and I am almost certain hearing his humans laughing is the equivalent of our pleasure at hearing him purr.

His antics amuse and entertain me. I look at him and smile. My heart swells when I hear him pad into a room. He can be as swift and as silent as a panther stalking his prey when he wants to be. But his default walk is one where you can hear his footfall.

His second career choice, if he was a biped, may be that of a future hockey star. His paw handling skills are second to none and he bats around anything that moves. He is swift and adept at this talent. Every time I find a small cache of Senior Cat's "health food pellets" hidden under baseboards or the back door mat or under the stove, fridge or any other immovable object, I wonder what his thought process is, as he "scores" another goal.

I love that he adores my Youngest Son. I often watch him love his human. He will often caress my son's face with his demonstrative tail. I have never ever known a cat who expressed such emotion with their tail. He has a flair for speaking very loudly with his tail. My son lavishes Junior with affection and I don't even think it is conscious. The admiration society is a mutual one.

Our Senior Cat has slowed down so very much. His playful days are long gone but I love that he still thinks it is a sport to dash out the front door when no one is looking. He still has that young, free wandering spirit at his core. He is pretty easy to catch these days. My biggest fear is that he may sneak out one day and no one will notice. Being locked outside on his own would not be an ideal situation.

I love gazing into his soft, expressive eyes. This morning he climbed onto my bed and poised himself face-to-face with me. We just spoke with our eyes. I think it hurts when I touch him. He seems to tolerate being petted but he does not lean into it.

He lets me pick him up and curls up into a small ball in my arms. This morning, we gazed out the living room window and I talked of old times. The time when he went out and hunted down a muskrat, the time when the crows hunted him down when he went to drink out of their puddle, the friends he made when he escaped out the front door and would not allow us to catch him.

Our little senior kitty has a book within him.

I think he has lived a pretty charmed life. I would love to hear his perspective. He loved making friends and when he prowled the neighborhood, I heard of at least one dog-friend he had. He is just that kind of guy. He is a lover, not a fighter.

As he soaked up the spring sunshine on a cool day, I couldn't help but want to snap as many pictures as I could.

Our days are numbered. I can hear it with every breath he takes. I see it in his eyes. I just hope he lets me know when he is hurting too much. I hope I can see it.

It is coming. My heart is already aching as I lose just a small piece of him slowly but surely these last days.

I'm grateful for almost fifteen years of knowing, loving, adoring and forever convincing our wandering little black kitty to stay home where he is safe and loved. 

I think his golden years have been easy ones. There is a lot of "life" within our home and he still chooses to join in and watch the action, even though he isn't a big part of it these days.

I see the evolution of Junior Cat since he moved in. It is as though Senior is grooming him for the day this "kingdom" will be his. He will rule this roost in his own unique way, but the essence of his predecessor will forever live on.

Purr on, my little black kitty. For as long as you are comfortable doing so. 

You are teaching me how precious every breath is. 

You have grown up with us and we have so very many memories.

I'm grateful for every little story, picture, video and remembrance I've saved along our way.

We never took you for granted, little one. 

Never. 

You know that, because you could hear us calling you when you were out and about roaming the neighborhood. 

You knew our door was always open.

You loved us and all those who wandered through our door. 

Even yet, you like to meet and greet our guests.

It makes me smile that you will rouse yourself from your deep afternoon slumber when you hear the deep voices of your older human siblings, when they drop by for a quick visit.

You are adored. I am pretty sure you know that.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.