This is Flynn, and he is a sweet-tempered cat who came to us from the SPCA. We think he was abused because he is terrified of being picked up, and he has a peculiar gate. For a cat, he walks like a horse. Flynn is not very bright. he’s been known to run into walls and chase his tail until he’s exhausted. He gets high on catnip. He has claws but never uses them unless he has to go into the cat carrier for the annual trip to the vet.
I adopted Flynn because I lost Sam, my darling, neurotic baby, whose ashes I still keep in a box in my office. (I know it’s a little gruesome.) Sam was my cat. He waited for me to come home. He slept with me. He talked to me. People say cats don’t feel affection for people the way dogs do, but they’re wrong. Any cat lover can tell you that.
Flynn looks a little like Sam, but he’s smaller and really prefers my youngest daughter’s company to mine. I don’t mind. The woman at the SPCA told me that black cats are much more likely to be abused than any other color of cat. People are afraid of them because of old superstitions. Not me. I love black cats. Like the Romans I believe they bring good luck.
I tell myself that Flynn is my last baby, but I expect if and when he goes, I’ll find myself back at the SPCA looking for another black cat.