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Bad luck

I love black cats. My first cat was a black tabby; his stripes were only discernible in the evening sun. Every time I see one, I want to give it a hug, not in the normal "ooh, what a cute kitty" way but in the "I'm going to love him and squeeze him and call him George" way. Which brings me to my most recent black cat, er, kitten. She died a horrible death due to many factors; she was sick when I first got her and I suspect that she was too young to be separated from a momma cat (she never did get the hang of solid food). She'd only eat through a syringe and I had to make a trip home at lunch to feed her. When I think of her, I hope she's forgiven me for not knowing what she needed. But I still want another black cat.