Blackie’s Blues

I’m so glad to meet you finally, I am Black and I’m here, all in my handsome-ness to talk with you about life. As you can see from my picture I am never one to keep my mouth closed about anything. Now I realize the name of this column is “Black’s Blues” but I’m not here to meow the blues. Far from it this is a celebration and an observation of life and there could be no more purr-itically correct way of doing this since my late dad’s name is Blue. He was a handsome kitty too and I have his big eyes. The name is in my dad’s honor. Don’t come caterwauling after me, it was my mom’s idea.

When it was my dad, my mom and I, she used to think about doing a cartoon with us ’cause we were such a handful {a bed-full, a recliner-full, a kitchen-full} we were always in her hair, coughing up ours. But my dad went into Heaven-ly Meows and is up there with our friends JJ and Coco-puff keeping a paw on everything.

For a few years after that it was just my mom and I. Then these last months we had gotten past things, time had wondered on and one day my mom said to me, ” would you like a new friend, one that barks but not too much?” I- ahem meow &^*&%(%%^!!- wasn’t too sure about it but I thought to myself that a new face around couldn’t hurt. After all my mom was being considerate of my feelings which can get in an uproar quicker than I can polish off a chicken flavored can of IAMS. She told me that our new friend needed a home, and that it was important to her that we were going to be able to live together as a family.
See, it’s important to show respect like that, not merely to you person people but to us cat-people and the dog-people and all the species going around town. We all have feelings whether we bark or talk or meow. It’s all in the communication. Love is Universal.

So anyway back to the story. So the next day my mom opens up the front door-yes that same front door I am always trying to run out of at top speed- and this little fur ball comes prancing in, tail wagging and this face the likes of which you can’t buy with gold. Her name is Precious and while I, Blackie, am a handsome black Persian kitty, this was a Lhaso Apso complete with these oh so annoying tags that she never takes off and you hear all night long. I thought I had the drop on keeping Mom up all night by jumping on her head with a piercing meow delivered at maximum decibels: but perhaps we could learn from each other the double team affect that my dad and I used to have on my mom. Hmm, maybe I am on to something. I thought that maybe I needed to give the new dog a chance to prove herself.

I’ll tell you what the new dog did prove herself. She proved that she loved my mom a lot. She proved that she was easy to get along with as long as I respected her space and she let me know that she respected mine also. It was appreciated since after all I am “top dog” oops I mean “top cat” IT’S THE EVERLASTING JINGLE BELLS things AROUND HER NECK:- they are doing me in. I’m confused!!

I’m sorry where were we? Oh yes how well we all get along! I know you don’t believe me but this cat and this dog have learned to work out their differences and live together happily. She’s not averse to the occasional paw swipe on the head which is only right after all. Of course she doesn’t eat the same food that I do yet she tries to steal my canned food, she drinks like a sailor chugging liquid all over the place, but all in all I think things are working out well.

The observation for this entire sequence of events is that difference can be a good thing. Change and new -nine or even ten-lives are also a good thing. One cat door closes and another one opens is one thing I have learned.

The moral of the story is to live and let live. Precious and I get along because we respect each other’s space and also we respect our mom’s space. That’s pretty important because Mom is the one who takes care of us. Biting the hand that feeds you only happens sometimes under the dinner table and is not to be made a habit of, ever. Not even for rotisserie chicken. We don’t need to do that, reallyâÂ?¦all we do is tag team her until she is so blinded by my incessant and shrill meow and Precious’s “the world is coming to an end” whine that she has no choice but to give in. Then, victory, and the rotisserie chicken can be had by all!

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