He just waltzed into our lives in 2007, as a hyper-active and hyper-affectionate kitten, from God knows where. Just showed up and hung around the front door, refusing to leave, rubbing himself against my legs and going round and round in circles, and gazing at me so intently with those big round kitteh eyes, so intently like he was trying to tell me something. (which was probably “give it up, sucker, I’m melting your heart and you know it.“) I was really enamoured when he came running to me when I called him, which is so unlike cats to do so.

I was also worried about him on his own, being black. Stray cats don’t always get love and sympathy, especially when they’re black as some people think they’re bad luck or something

Today my sweet Blackie is still full of personality and charisma. The only thing is that he’s a bit neurotic where he would pee on anything plastic, so I can’t leave anything plastic or synthetic lying around, like my backpack. And he would still leave his mark on some corner in the living room, so I keep having to check. But as troublesome as that is when it happens, I’m glad he came into our lives. He hates it when I hug and cuddle him, but loves being stroked, and pretty much demands his daily dose. I think he knows how much he’s loved.





Day 44 of ‘100 Happy Days‘.