Vincent the Black Cat

We used to have a black cat named Vincent, he was the coolest blend of walk slow, affectionate, happy to be held; and wild-man outdoors Mr. Danger cat. Our daughter once woke up to him BANGING on her window with an owl hovering, flapping, trying to grab him. She just got him in.

I used to hold him and say, “Look, my cat can count. Vincent: count to 3,” and then I’d pulse-hug him and he’d grunt on each squeeze, “Ehh–ehh–ehh.”

“Very good…now count to 5.” Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh.”

“Gooooood kitty…now count to 32…”