Happy Halloween!
I have had six cats, including Marlee, in my life. I love Marlee and miss the other five. Each was beautiful and sweet in his/her own way.
I must admit, however, that I've never had a black cat. It's not a matter of fear or superstition: All of my feline friends, except for the first Charlie, were rescues. And he was part of a litter of kittens born to the cat of someone with whom I was taking a class. So, in a sense, he, like the others, found his way into my life.
One of my few regrets is that I've never figured out how to ride with a cat. Oh, when the first Charlie and Marlee were kittens, I could have carried them in a knapsack or something, but I'm not sure they would have liked it. In a way, that might have been a good thing: Having Caterina, Charlie I, Candice, Charlie II, Max or Marlee home while I was out--whether for a spin around the neighborhood, a day trip or a longer trek--gave me something to look forward to at the end of a ride.
Still, I wonder, what would it have been like to have one of them--or a black cat--on a ride with me?
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