Back in October I wrote a post about a black cat who was hanging around, partaking in whatever bonus food he could score. We dubbed him Darkman because (a) he’s jet black and hard to see in the dark and (b) he kind of drops in and our of our lives like a super hero.
Well, he’s moved in. I called his owner the other day and she said, rather breezily, “oh him? We haven’t seen him in months! Give him a pat for me.”
It started with the cold snap we had a few weeks ago. Temps in San Francisco tend toward the mild side but these nights were dipping into the 30s. Darkman has his fair share of intelligence and one chilly night he marched right by his food dish, jumped onto the cushiest chair in the house, curled up in a ball and fell fast asleep.
So began his new routine. I’d open the door and whistle before going to bed and a dark shape with big green eyes would materialize out of the night and settle in *his* chair.
After about a week he moved onto the bed with me, Bert and Zinger. It’s getting a little crowded but we work it out. Darkman sleeps like a log and weighs about as much as one when he’s out. Why is it that a sleeping animals weigh more?
I’m quite pleased with this new development. Darkman (who we think is 2 years old) likes to play and now Zinger (who is 8 years old) has started playing again too. They come and go and I imagine idyllic scenes of them hanging around the ‘hood together. Too anthropomorphic? Perhaps.
Darkman looks healthier too. He’s packed on a few much need pounds and he’s become downright affectionate. The transformation warms my heart.