Bucky Cat

I wrote about Bucky when we adopted her from the shelter back in spring. Our eighteen-year-old calico went the way of all good old cats, and we wanted a new kitty to fuss over. When she came to us she was a seven and a half pound bundle of nerves, her eyes huge. Usually that's all we saw, because every loud noise sent her scrambling up the stair and under a bed, or into the rafters of the basement. She was a picky eater, rarely touching her bowl when we watched. I wondered if she ate or drank at all. Not even catnip impressed her; the volunteer at the shelter called her a "non-responder."

My, how things change. Over the months she has settled in to the point that not even the heavy equipment out on our street rebuilding the sidewalks and the roadbed rattled her. She no longer hightails it out of the room when visitors arrive. She discovered Meow Mix and has lost her fashion model figure. She's a plushy little fireplug of a cat, who leaps into our laps every time we sit, and who sings and vocalizes very convincingly every morning if we don't come down the stairs and fix her breakfast. Oh, and she responds to catnip very well, thank you.

I always loved the style of calico cats, but this black and white tuxedo cat is also very appealing. I enjoy sketching her, and and thought I might do a series of black and white animals, cats, cows, rabbits. There are more exotic black and white critters, penguins and orca whales, but I generally stick to what I see in my own world. These days I mostly see Bucky.