I have always been an animal lover. And not only an animal lover, a lover of the underdog animal. I grew up with the best dog, Buffy. She was a black mutt with a lot of German Shephard. Buffy was well-behaved, a simple down to earth dog. I would take her on walks as a teenager, where we bonded, and she allowed me to get out of the house to exercise and have a cigarette or two.

After moving out of my parent’s home and with my new husband halfway across the country, I wanted a cat more than anything. I love dogs, but I had always wanted a cat and never had one. Within 2 weeks, my husband had located a cat needing adoption. When I had a surprise knock at the door, I was greeted by Ebony, a chocolate point Siamese. When the owners saw how much I already loved this cat I had just met, they offered her brother, Prince, a seal point Siamese. I had Prince for just 10 years when he died of massive kidney failure. His sister, Ebony, lived until she was 17. I have since 2 adopted more and more cats. I have discovered that 3 is the perfect amount for me to love and still be able to spoil each cat. When I go to the shelter to get another cat, I always ask for the oldest and the one that has been in the shelter the longest. I have adopted a thirteen-year-old, an 11-year-old, and a 16-year-old cat, along with a few younger ones that needed homes for different reasons.

When I moved up to New Hampshire, the pandemic left so many shelters empty that it overjoyed my heart. But when I was down to just 1 cat due to losing one to mammary cancer and another suddenly from a heart attack, I decided to adopt 2 barn cats. The kittens were born in March, and I adopted them at the beginning of May. I ended up with the kitten, who waited patiently for me to notice him, Skittles. He is a lover, loving to climb up on everyone and be loved. He also knows how to climb curtains, unfortunately. I also adopted a cat I had dreamed of since I was a small child. Not only a black cat but the runt of the liter. This cat was given the name “Adley.”

Now, to the purpose of the title. Once I adopted Adley, things about black cats became obvious. If she is asleep, there is no such thing as a quick cute pic. I have to find perfect lighting and angles so you can tell which end is which. I joined a few black cat lovers’ Facebook groups with titles like “Mini Panthers and their Parents” or “In appreciation of black cats.” One thing that was common with all the groups was memes about talking to your cat and finding out you are actually talking to a shirt that fell out of the hamper, a blanket on your bed, or various other things. Now, to let you in on a little secret about me, I am clumsy. Not normal clumsy either. I have a plate and screws in my leg from missing one step. I have scars from accidents and have been told I say “Ow” more than any other sound. However, with a black cat, I have to watch my feet so much to keep from stepping on her; when I am at work, I am now walking into things as I am used to watching for her.

What is your experience with black cats? Or have you had other pets that seem hell-bent on your destruction, even unwittingly? Please tell me all about it on my Facebook page in the comments. Everyone loves pet stories!!! At least the best kinda people.

Til next week!!!