Lucky

Is there truth in a name? In the case of Lucky the cat, it seems so. People who take up residence in the Santa Monica Mountains know that cats are at high risk of becoming cat meat for the coyote and owl populations residing in those hills and dales.

Owls, predators of cats? Yes indeed. They may not have jaws but they have claws that lift cats to soaring heights and then release them, using gravity as the death weapon. Smokey disappeared after the hoot of an owl proclaimed victory. 

Sparkle left this earth trying to escape up a tree, unfortunately not fast enough for a threesome of coyotes. Her son Sugar was snagged right in our driveway by a lone coyote who simply snapped his neck with one mighty chomp.

Other pet cats met their fate for different reasons. Blue, the ever-wandering cat of the Russian Blue breed, got his comeuppance from an automobile one rainy night. Chase and Little Guy both disappeared at sunset - here one minute, gone the next. Something of mighty stealth got them.

Lacy, a gift from my ex-husband to our son, disappeared two years later on my wedding day to Michael. In this case, the ghosts of the past must have claimed her.

And then there was Lucky, a wonderful tuxedo cat of charming temperament. He was born in the hallway bookshelf  and died of old age (in cat years 116), right in front of the very spot where he was born.

Note to self: always name a being with an auspicious moniker whether it be bird, fish, fowl, a pet, or a human of precious birth.






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