Black Cat Day

 There's a day for everything now, and today is Black Cat Day. So, in honor of Black Cat Day, I'm going to rerun a post about the black cat we used to have, Lucky. 

We got Lucky with his sister Lucy, as a young kitten from one of Theo's classmates. When Lucky was a few weeks old, he followed his mother out a door that closed on him before he was all the way through. His family thought the slamming door had killed him, but no, Lucky had other ideas. When he came to us a few weeks later, he was a healthy, playful kitten that we named Lucky because of the good luck he had already had in his young life.

It was soon evident that he was the dominant cat over his littermate Lucy, a sweet, gentle girl. Three years later, he remained the top cat when the other two cats, Leo and Annie, came into the house. Despite constant challenges from Annie, Lucky remained in charge. No need for swats or growls to keep the others in line. A stern look from him was all that it took.

As part of his leadership role, he was a leader in the food department. He was the one who got to eat first and the one who opened the food bag for the others. He could tear a hole in a new bag of food in no time flat. Then the others got to enjoy the spoils of his efforts. We tried to put the food away as soon as we got it, but he was amazingly fast at this trick.

He also got first crack at the prey that ventured into our house. He didn't bring the dead mouse or mole to us, as many cats do; he hid them under one particular rug in the basement. The same rug that he did his trick of lying on his side and running around the edge of it. We don't know what all of that meant in cat behavior, but I guess he did.

Lucky was also a relaxed cat who enjoyed a good lap to purr on and a pat from anyone — stranger or not. Even the vet. That was until he had some medical problems that needed invasive procedures. After that, the vet was not his friend. In fact, sometimes it took two or three of the most experienced people at the vet's to help Lucky with what he needed. Can't say that I blamed him. I wouldn't have been very happy with the people who poked and prodded me for no good reason that I could understand. But he and I survived, as did our other cats he hissed at for several days after they had been to the vet.

He was also our adventure kitty. All of our cats were indoor cats. They were curious about the outside, but happy to watch the show from a window. A door left open by mistake might get a cat creeping outside, but never a dash. So we couldn't figure out how and why we would occasionally find Lucky outside meowing at a window to come back in. He seemed happy, just ready to come inside for a bit of warmth. Sometimes he had been out all night, and we didn't even know he was out there. One time, he helped us figure out that we had a torn screen (maybe he tore it), but other times, we never figured out how he made it out. But he always came back.

Lucky had a good, long life of 18 years, and we still miss him.