Grandpa's Little Black Cat

Day 30: My maternal grandfather loved cats. On the other hand, my grandmother would not allow them in the house, so Grandpa's collection of strays lived in the garage and under the back step, every morning lining up for their breakfast and Grandpa's personal attention. He would often be seen carrying a cat or two under his arms or over a shoulder, clearly loved as much by his feline friends as he loved them.

Lest anyone think my grandmother hard-hearted in this regard, she held nothing in particular against cats. She simply felt that their place was out-of-doors. I'm sure she would have issued an equivalent proscription against a dog as well. In fact, Grandma had a beautiful ceramic cat, still in my possession, somewhat battered and missing portions of both ears, a larger version of Grandpa's little black cat shown here. Both ceramic cats enjoyed the comforts of the family hearth.

Today, I admit a partiality to black cats, moreso since learning that at shelters, they are the least likely to be adopted. Perhaps the reasoning behind that is the same as that behind the superstition surrounding them: they're hard to see in the dark.