A Little Black Panther and Pavlov’s Humans

28 Aug

Ink drawing: two kitties on a cushion.

Our lovely black tomcat, Bola, died a couple of years ago at the age of 19. He was an enormous sleek neutered tom and he looked like a scaled down black panther but he had the sweetest personality and loved food. He was a bit of a gourmet and I know you’re not supposed to do it, but I always let him sit next to me at the table and I fed him tidbits. He liked Indian, Chinese, Italian and Mediterranean food as well as good home cooking. Meat, fish and cheese were his favourites but he’d happily eat rice, pasta and veg as long as there was some sort of gravy or sauce on them.

At the end of the meal he loved to be given a tiny slice of honeydew melon which he’s suck and suck until it was dry. He always had to have his human food at the table – he wouldn’t eat tidbits if I put them in his cat bowl. I wished that there were restaurants that would accept cat guests because he would have loved to be taken out to dine and he was very well-behaved, but that’s ‘Elfin Safety for you!

I swear he had a wristwatch hidden on him somewhere because throughout his long life he never missed a mealtime. We’ve always fed our cats at 7am and 5pm and he’d be there, first thing in the morning, meowing loudly dead on seven o’clock every single day, never understood the concept of a lie-in. Even though he’s been gone now for two years we still automatically wake up at 7am, no need for an alarm clock. It’s like those experiments with Pavlov’s dogs.

This is an ink sketch I did of Bola and Bobbit, our tortoiseshell [calico] queen in a rare moment of tolerating each other, curled up on a chair next to the boiler in the kitchen.

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