Missing A Black Cat

Oh, man. While sorting photos out for my very very belated U.S. holiday post, I ran across this in a folder of oldies:

black cat and baby

"What? She smells like milk. I like milk."

Since we’ve been home, T and I both keep catching glimpses of a phantom black cat out of the corner of our eyes. Trev swore he heard him come through the cat door– it wasn’t Quinn, who was sleeping nearby. It wasn’t a neighbor’s cat, as far as we could tell. And the other day, I was drifting off to sleep and could have sworn I heard him purring down by my feet.

I roasted a chicken this weekend, and had a good old pout when only Quinn came begging for treats. Even the Bean’s asked once or twice, when spotting a black cat in the street while walking: “Zee-sho? Issa Zee-sho?”

Poor old Zeno. We miss him.

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3 comments

  1. I’m sure he is still there roaming around 🙂 They never really leave us. I still see my little Lyra whenever I’m at my parents house… have watched her run down the stairs and seen her coming out of my room… thinking of all of you and sending love!

  2. I see, and sometimes just feel, Lyra, too…
    I often think of Figaro but I don’t ‘see’ him as I do some others… I suspect htat Figro continues to be busy in the neighborhood at large.
    I often see Buddy running toward me from Marjorie’s direction when I return home from work.

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