21 October, 2013


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

1 comment:

  1. He even walked on the ceiling (once, at least).

    RIP, Pooka :(