As my recent posts have been about animals I have known I couldn’t leave out a special little fur person: my sister’s visitor, a very beautiful, sleek black cat. We call him The Black Knight although that is not his real name, but it suits him. He has a charmed life of his own choosing. He is like The Tramp in Disney’s Lady and The Tramp, he has different homes he visits for different treats. It all began several years ago when his owners moved house.
He didn’t want to go. No sooner had they moved than he found his way back to his own old home, calling on his old human friends who had treats for him; chicken at my sister’s house, and no matter how many times his owners came back for him he still returned. He knew where he wanted to live.
His owners asked my sister if she’d like to keep him but she said she wouldn’t because if he didn’t show up she’d worry. As it is he visits his other homes for his treats – someone must feed him because he looks well nourished, fine glossy coat and is in good condition but no-one knows where he goes in between visits. I’d love someone to put a tracking collar on him to see but that would infringe on his freedom – he’s streetwise, he wears no collar. I worry about him in the bad weather, if he’s found shelter whilst he’s out ‘catting’ (he’s neutered so he’s a respectable gentleman and doesn’t harass the lady felines of the neighbourhood) and I’m always relieved when my sister says he’s called. She’s now added tuna sticks to his treats but chicken is his favourite.
She says he comes running along the fence miaowing when she’s in the garden, torn between keeping his balance and rushing lest she goes in and shuts the door without seeing him. He likes it best on warm days when the back door is open and he can go in and out at will, have a snooze on the dining room chair under the table if it takes his fancy.
He’s a tough cookie. She’s seen him stalking his patch when she herself can’t sleep and is peering out of the window at the nocturnal activities of the close; he can hold his own, but then he has a vulnerable side. A side that likes to hear a human voice, have a bit of affection, a pair of legs to rub around, and a favourite place to sit next to his old mate Scooby Doo the door stop.
He really is a beauty, inside and out. As my sister says, a lovely soul inside a pusscat, a phrase I stole for my last post, but don’t take my word for it have a look for yourself. Here he is. The Black Knight.