This week we have an entirely black cat entered by reader Michael Bouchard, to wit:
Rousseau is a cat of Parisian temperament. A traveler and tramp, born in a humane society in Chicago, he left there to venture around California and Colorado and is currently settled in Denver. Rou is a cat who has foregone the vulgar meow for a refined chirp and has never met a hand to pet him that he didn’t find pleasure in. He knows his claws are too good for furniture. He also happens to follow the rule “black matches everything” and hasn’t a spot of fur on him a shade lighter than pitch. However, he’s not all fluff and relaxation. He proved himself a master mouser in some drafty Chicago apartments and dominated not just cats but has also cowed dogs from Poodles to Irish Wolfhounds all without a single hiss. They readily defer to his quiet confidence. (Which is good, because there was a time when I thought a border collie might eat him. Thankfully, the collie thought better of it after Rousseau simply stared it down.)
Rou is a part of the pack. He makes sure he knows where his humans are. He sleeps at the foot of the bed when my wife and I finally retire and rests at my feet as I type this now. Best of all, he is as old as my relationship with my wife. His birthday, being a reminder of when we met, creates a double happiness. With his style, his travel, his temperament and composure, he truly is our noble savage.