Hi, Ollie! My name is Inky, because my coat is so black. My beginnings
are shrouded in mystery, but a neighbor thinks that I was originally taken
care of by an elderly man, who died. I then took to the streets in Portland,
Oregon, but soon found a nice garden in which to play and shelter. Lois,
who lives in the house in the middle of the garden, started putting food
and water out, which I eagerly gobbled up. I was still a young cat and
tractable, so I charmed my way into the house. I must be between two and
three years old.
I don't purr or react to catnip, but my mistress and I have managed to
establish a friendly relationship, though she still doesn't understand
why I strike out with a paw from my perch on the top of a speaker tower.
(I just want attention.)
Lois now feeds me really tasty dry food indoors, which I credit with
making my fur all soft and glossy--never eating so much that I lose my
youthful figure. I really love being outdoors, running and frisking
about. Although I can see birds and squirrels from indoors, being
outdoors is more fun, though I've already realized that catching either
is probably a lost cause. There are other cats in the neighborhood, but
I'm a bit of a loner and don't like cat visitors especially. The young
man who comes to take care of me when my mistress is away is a buddy
of mine; he knows just where to scratch and pet me. I'm a lucky cat!
