He goes by the misleading name of Mr Chuckles. He is of great age, but opinions vary as to exactly how old that may be. A cat used to doing as he pleases, he is nobodies fool, that's for sure. I must admit, he is quite beautiful for a cat. Mmm, cats, I can take, or leave. I have rather a horror of them, if I am honest. Due to the fact their nature is predatory, they have a nasty habit of catching birds! With no intention of being friendly towards them, you understand. The thing is, I love birds. I love how small, how vulnerable they are, yet how tough they have to be to survive. I love their singing, and so many are just beautiful. Delicate little works of art.They give me great joy.
This cat though, belongs to my friend. He is proud, extremely proud, and haughty. A solid black, with a long haired, fluffy coat, that feels like silk. A large, full tail, he holds erect, like the sail of a very grand ship. It's true, he is a splendid, and handsome cat. Mr Chuckles is really quite majestic. Just not very friendly.
I had a black cat once, in Australia. He found me, and followed me home, and never left again. It was when I was on one of my daily stomps through the trees. I liked to excercise around the property. I say stomps, because that is exactly what I did. The grass in many places was long, it was a 'bush' walk, which meant snakes. Snakes, can be sneaky. Lieing doggo in the grass. Until they rear out, and sink the poison fangs in. That's if they get a fright first, of course. If they know you are coming, they prefer to make themselves scarce. Hence, I always stomped, and stamped my way along, vibrating the earth. Letting them know to get out of my way. It always worked too, I saw nary a one. Although it was an area for King Browns, the most poisonous.
This Australian cat, had the life of Riley, which is what I called him. I missed my English cats, was forced to leave them behind. Which meant he filled the gap nicely. The place there, near Darwin, was heaving with wildlife. Kangaroos, wallabies, lizards, crocs, wild horses, even buffalo, further out in the bush. Birds, well, every colour of parakeet, parrot, and singing bird you can imagine. Flocks of them, wheeling around overhead, and squabbling in the trees. There was one unusual bird, with a flash of blue, who didn't keep his distance. It came almost to the door everyday, to sing. It sat on the excercise machines outside the screen door, and sang his little heart out. It was magic, I really looked forward to it.
Came the day, he failed to show. The next day, and the next. Ahh, gone off, I thought. Never mind, he'll be singing for someone, somewhere. Then, looking for shoes, in the bottom of my wardrobe. I saw this glossy bundle of feathers, a flash of blue. My heart sank as I reached between the shoes. That darned Riley! Had not only, killed my beautiful songbird, but had presented him to me, in my own wardrobe. The dirty scoundrel. I never let myself get close to another cat after that. Killers, they are, plain, and simple, for no reason.
So, Mr Chuckles, he too rules the roost. An extremely spoiled cat. We have an uneasy truce. He, accustomed to being alone all day, whilst now, I stay, and am in the house most days. He never trusts me. Whether he senses something of my distance, or it is his way, I don't know. Except if I get too close, he will spin around, in complicated manoeuvres, as if to foil any plans for grabbing him. Suddenly, facing in another direction, long hair on end, he will shoot off at great speed, making his escape.
Its become a war of nerves, to see if his acrobatic moves freaks me out first. Or, if my presence stops him sleeping restfully on his favourite chair, causing him to vacate the premises too fast. He can't be happy, keeping alert, having to exit at great speed as he does. Both of us, have become a little jumpy. When will we have the next run in?
I guess I am lucky the birds here know to keep mostly to the trees. As they too, sing beautifully every morning. Or perhaps Mr Chuckles is too old to care. A truce of sorts has developed with the days hotting up. We both enjoy the sun, with distance between us igetting less. I am waiting for the door bell to start ringing tonight, Halloween. With me answering the door, to children in fancy dress. They come in bunches, moving unexpectly. These are all strange happenings he won't like. Who knows, by the end of the evening, I may have become his friend, or at least an ally.
Just as long as there is NO killing of birds, we can work something out....I'm willing to bury the hatchet.
Or, he may be the one black cat not so lucky, or doing so well on Halloween.....Look out Mr Chuckles, this could be an interesting night.
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