He was my first cat. Scrawny little runt, barely weaned, barely survived his first weekend away from mama.
He turned into this magnificent monster of a black cat, all muscle and bone, fearless and smart and a little bit wicked. Nothing in plastic was safe, counter or table, he'd find it, open it, eat it. Saffron rolls, pumpkin bread, cookies.
He had a crooked tail, which he carried straight up.
He liked raw pumpkin.
He growled at maintenance men and defended his territory and everyone in it.
He walked on a leash.
He moved 1200 miles without missing a beat or a meal.
He had unusually long fangs.
He didn't complain, unless he was hungry.
Best cat ever.
June 1996-October 2013
He even walked on the ceiling (once, at least).
ReplyDeleteRIP, Pooka :(