Blacky

“Nobody wants a black cat. Don’t you know you’re bad luck?” The long-haired, white Persian was bad-mouthing me again.

“Knock it off, Princess. Don’t you think Blacky feels bad enough having been in here longer than any of us?” hissed the Siamese. Grateful for any kindness, I tried to give Blue Eyes an appreciative glance.

“Hey, here comes a family with kids. I’ll bet I get picked this time. Just watch the pro, boys.” Princess strutted over to the front of the wire cage and turned up her purring volume about 20 decibels while rubbing the side of her head against the wire.

“Oh, Mommy, look at the pretty white kitten. Can we have it, please?” the little blonde-haired girl begged, falling right into Princess’s trap.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Let’s look at some of the other kitties too.”

I gulped and decided to go for it. I slowly walked over to where the mom was standing and looked straight up at her with pleading eyes. Then I rolled over on my back and begged with all four paws in the air.

“Well, would you look at that. I have never seen a cat lay on its back before. It’s like he’s begging me to adopt him. Honey, come look at this,” she called to her husband.

“What do you think, kids? Black or white?” The dad looked first to the little girl.

“I want the white one.”

“I want the black one,” the little boy said.

“I guess I’m the tie-breaker. I vote black,” the dad declared.

I can’t believe it. They’re putting me in the carrier. I’m being adopted.

As we’re leaving the store, I twist my neck around and give Princess and Blue Eyes my very best Cheshire grin and stick my tail up in the air.


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