Chocolat

Chocolat was “born” on the 2^nd November 2006. Black tiny kitten playing at night on a tarred road, hunting crickets, zigzagging and waltzing across the road. Used up 6 of his lives, but learnt road sense. Child’s fist sized patch of darker shadow, in the shade cast by the streetlight behind the veranda pillar, last thing I saw as I peeked behind the curtain before sadly going to bed. Henry brought him home. These people will be looking for a second cat soon. I am moving on. They will love you and feed you.

First evening he joined our family, he slept on my lap. Never again. Laps are for wimps! When he was still a boing boing kitten, he leapt onto the breakfast table where I was peacefully eating my muesli, and swiped spoon, broken bowl, and muesli to the ground. Then he hoovered up the muesli, and to this day, licks his lips hopefully when I am eating breakfast. We do love our yoghurt. Curiously, Henry liked strawberry, but we just feed them a little, plain yoghurt, occasionally.

When we moved a few blocks to this new house, was afraid he would walk back to his “home and family” but as far as we know he hasn’t gone much further than the neighbouring gardens. Kept the two cats (Aragon and him) in for a few days, until they knew where home was. And Chocolat spent most of his time perched on the bedroom windowsill, yelling Out, OUT, O U T!

Sadly, having been raised as a feral kitten, he hunts. M’sieu Chocolat was in disgrace. He caught the Lil Cuss. He killed the Lil Cuss, and brought him in to show us proudly. Minus the long tail feathers, and the Ungardener asked me hopefully, got a red beak, it’s not our Lil Cuss is it? Our Lil Cuss was Lunch. Our Lil Cuss is no more. It is awful quiet around here.

But the wagtails can revert to their ancient custom of a leisurely bath every evening, then preening in the evening sun, putter along the circuit of the pond, looking for dinner. The sparrows, and weavers, and doves can return to eating their seed in peace. And since the Lil Cuss is a cuckoo sort of bird, they will be raising his chicks for him, although he is no more.

Chocolat defends his territory bravely against the opposition, including the Maine Coon across the road, who is 3 or 4 times his size. And the assorted full toms, who are much bigger and stronger than him, as a neutered cat.

When asked – r u hungry Chocolat, he licks his lips thoughtfully, to the left, Am I HUNgry? The right, AM I hungry? Then decides. Sits at his dinner dish looking bored and expectant, so where is it already? Or shoots through the cat door, like an Olympic runner as the starting pistol is fired! (While Aragon goes through peacefully, quietly and delicately, as befits an elderly lady). Now, in the evening, if the Blotanical/blog bug is not chewing on me – he comes in and glares at me. You do know that you are sitting in my chair. I said, the chair I want to sit in. The warm one, by the fire? And if he has beaten me to it, he glares at me balefully. You wouldn’t be thinking of sitting HERE would you?!