Black Cats Banished Again

This weekend I decided I would do it, I would adopt a cat. On Saturday I went to Morris Animal Refuge. Usually, they have a ton of cats, but this week many of the cages were empty. Some of the cats looked sick; others didn't seem to care what was going on around them. I only connected with one cat--a black kitty named Jones. I liked the idea I could pretend he was named after Keith Jones or Jonesy, the ridiculous ex-Flyer who farts on Comcast SportsNet and still comes out looking like a Philadelphia hero (maybe that's what makes him a hero in some people's eyes). Anyway, Jones was about a year old, and he followed my finger with his eyes, just like a player would follow a hockey puck. I knew I shouldn't even consider a black cat, but I decided to ask to try him out anyway.

The first thing I noticed was how healthy and fat he felt, not at all like Lancie toward the end. His hair was so thick and shiny. He purred when I pet him. The poor kitty was pretty scared, though. I don't think he realized where he was. When I pulled him out of the cage, he suddenly saw the other cats and promptly had a hissy fit. I tried to comfort him, but I started crying myself. He looked like Lancelot, but he wasn't Lancelot. He felt like a big blob of a cat, not like my "cat baby."

The moral of the story? No black cats for me. I'm thinking white, orange, gray, tabby, whatever. Hopefully, I'll find a female. I'd also like a young cat, something so cute and cuddly I'll have no choice but to love it immediately. I'll try again next weekend.