Looking at photos of Benjie brought back a flood of pleasant memories about the two black cats by whom I've had the pleasure of being owned. The first was a very delicate longhair who was on "death row" at the animal shelter where she entered my life. The volunteers didn't even bother to show her until my former wife inquired about about a card on the cat kennel about a black cat who was hiding out of view. We were told that she was antisocial and had attacked a baby. She was just very timid and (once bonded with a human) very jealously possessive. It's easy to understand how jealousy poisoned her relationship with the new baby in her former home. Samantha became my infinitely gentle and very loving companion, and I'll always miss her sweet trilling voice. Fifteen years simply wasn't long enough.
While Samantha was dying from sarcoma another black cat entered my life (Imagine Benjie with a short coat.). She'd started out as a feral kitten and was taken in by a family with kids after they got tired of seeing her pick off birds in their garden. The kids loved her and vice versa, but the former moved to Europe and left her in the care of a cousin of theirs who introduced Shadow to me. She's cranky on occasion, and I often spot her looking wistfully at children outside; it's as if she's waiting for her kids to come back and reclaim her... 13 years after their departure. I'm "second best" in her life, but it's an enormous privilege to be the adoring servant of this queen. She plans and supervises the daily rhythms of my home life, from waking up at the right time in the morning to settling into bed for serious sleep at night.
All cats are special, but black cats are the most special of all.