Yesterday was Black Cat Appreciation Day.
I did not know this until late last night. If I had known I would have written about Dolly yesterday. She was my black catkid and I appreciated her. Most of the time. She was a brat cat.
Still I loved her and miss her big time.
I was her mama from the time she was 6 weeks old until she died at 19.
She was a petite girl. Never weighed more than 7 pounds. Dolly had tiny feet and beautiful big round gold eyes and a white spot on her chest that I always thought of as her jewelry.
Right up until the end she was a cat of great energy. Every night she had a zoomie spaz attack. She would run from room to room over furniture on counters; from bed to table to sofa up and down the hallway all at full speed. It took awhile but I did get her to understand that she could not run up the curtains and jump from the rod to the floor.
It also took awhile for her to learn that she could not sleep on the lampshade. She would settle herself on the metal part of the shade that attached it to the harp. There were a couple of broken lamps before that lesson was learned.
She could be lovable and she could be–not so lovable–aren’t we all like that?
Every night she slept snuggled up against my side.
I miss my Dolly.