I never set out to acquire a black cat, but when a snowbird heading north found this kitten the night before she was to leave, I got the call and took him in as a foster. He's named Ozzie and now he's a teenager, a force to be reckoned with. He wakes me at 2 in the morning by sitting on my chest and ducking his head under my hand for a scratch. He regards Sugar, my other cat, as his surrogate mom and still likes to occasionally nurse on her, which she tolerates with amazing grace. They've bonded to the point that the Capt says they're inseparable and I'd better forget trying to find him another home (to my secret relief).
One of the biggest challenges about Ozzie is photographing him. I've spent considerable time at it (always thankful for digital cameras), and aside from the fact that he's very active, because of his coloring he's usually just a cat-shaped silhouette! I try to get his eyes (see below) because otherwise you can't tell whether you're looking at his front or his back. But this morning he sprawled in the sun on the kitchen table (normally forbidden territory), revealed all his glossy glory. Lucky me, I was around to get the shot.
Hope you have a lucky and happy Halloween.
