So, I suppose I should introduce myself a little more. I am called Black Magic by my guardians. I’m known on the outside by my inner cat name which doesn’t translate well into English, so I won’t try. But I am well known in my little neighborhood community. I live with Mike and Judy and their 3 other cats. I have special status among the cats for many reasons, chief among them is that I am who I am. But the most obvious difference, other than my genealogy, is that I’m the only one that gets to go out-of-doors. Strangely enough, the other 3 cats have never even tried to go out. I’ll tell you more about them later although there is little to tell. My grandfather, Black Jack, was a very well-regarded and famous cat. You may have heard of him, because he had the gift that he passed on to me of facility with human language, and he wrote his autobiography. He lived with a fellow named Archie for many years, and then with Archie’s nephew Lenny and his family when Archie got too old and sick to take care of a cat. You can check out Black Jack’s autobiography if you’re interested, but I’m not necessarily recommending that you do so. Franz Liszt was once asked if he was going to write his autobiography, and he said that it was enough to have lived his life, he didn’t have to write about it as well. But writing is a compulsion with some people, and apparently, also, with some cats. I don’t think a dog would ever have to worry about writing an autobiography. A dog wouldn’t know where to start, but I have to admit that what they lack in smarts they make up in loyalty.
So, Black Jack was my grandfather and he used to hang out with Grits, my grandmother. My mother was Black Angel. I have no clue who my father was; more about that another time. Black Angel was a great mom. She didn’t exactly live with anybody, but pretty much ran the streets. She had great survival skills and lived a long time for a strictly outdoor cat. She never picked up human language. She really had no use for it, and I don’t think she had the gift anyway. I always knew I was a little on the different side because I always understood what people were saying to each other. Mom told me about my grandfather. Of course, I heard a lot about him from the other cats in the area as well. When I was about 8 months old I wandered quite far away from my neighborhood and was picked up and brought to a cat shelter. That was an experience I wouldn’t care to repeat. Other cats are okay, but I need my solitude. Luckily, Judy was volunteering at the shelter. She recognized what a handsome and all around marvelous cat I am, and she brought me home to live with her and Mike. And as I said, with the other 3 cats who, as I also said, I’ll tell you what little there is to know about them later.
I get in and out of the house through a cat door. I wear a clever little device around my neck that sends a radio signal to the door to unlock and open it so I can get through. This keeps the other 3 cats in and the neighborhood cats and raccoons out. There is an abundance of squirrels, chipmunks, mice, and other little critters to maintain my interest and keep up my skills. I get fed pretty well in the house, so sometimes I just bring my little trophies home as a present for Mike and Judy. They seem to prefer it if I leave the presents outside, although when I bring them in the other cats get to play with them. They’re particularly interesting to play with if they’re still alive and moving around. The other cats think I’m some kind of a God. Indoors, my specialty is sleeping. I know I sleep over half my life away. But sleep is a gift from the Universe, and it is wonderful. My dreams carry me to marvelous places, sometimes. I will probably tell you about some of this from time to time. But now, it’s time for a nap.