A black cat does not know it is supposed to be mysterious.
It knows where the afternoon sunshine falls across the floor.
A black cat does not know it is supposed to be unlucky.
It knows the sound of a familiar voice, the whereabouts of a favorite toy, and which chair someone was foolish enough to leave unattended.
And somewhere beneath that dark little coat is a creature with ordinary wishes.
A warm place.
A gentle hand.
Fresh water and a good meal.
Someone kind to curl up beside.
With Halloween approaching, black cats are appearing on decorations, greeting cards, and front windows again. There they are beside the pumpkins, backs arched, tails curled, looking as though they have been placed in charge of something suspicious and ready to pounce.
Perhaps we ought to give them a different assignment this year.
Being loved would be a good one.
