Someone asked me if Hector was the first black cat of whom I had taken care. I had to think for a moment, but the answer is ‘no’.
Lincoln was my first foster-cat, taken in even before I had my blog - just before, I think - in the middle of 2010. He was a good-natured fellow. I recorded in a later blog entry that he talked a great deal, and wailed, probably not unlike Hector. It occurs to me now that, like Hec, he was worried and scared, and trying to call anyone or anything with which he was familiar. I didn’t have the experience with cats then to recognise this. Fortunately, Lincoln was with me but a short time before he was adopted, so the real transition he had to undergo would have been into his permanent home, hopefully his last great change. These two pictures are of my first house panther.
His successor as black-foster-cat, after a very long interval, is doing well. Hector is leaving the library more often now during the day, not just at night, and is quiet in the dark, which usually means he’s up to something, like opening the cupboard under the bathroom basin and using my spare toilet paper as scratching pads... But each day brings improvements - or at least something new - and I have high hopes for a full and successful integration.