Luna In The Leaves

This is Luna.

He is a straightforward cat.

Well. Except for the fact that at first, we thought he was a girl.

He turned out to be a boy.

But that's fine. We had already decided to call him Luna, which is kind of a girly name, but we figured he could handle it.

Luna is cool like that.

Once the runt of an abandoned litter, Luna makes up for his still-delicate stature with an easy calm and relaxed confidence that makes me smile. His silky black body moves fluidly, with the grace that only the most nimble of cats can possess.

He is the kind of cat who slips out the door each day and sails off over the back fence for a life that we know nothing about. He comes back at his own discretion, eats with wild abandon, then curls up wherever he darn well pleases for a good hard nap.

Two or three times, he has returned home with some mysterious wounds. We have no idea what kind of mischief our Luna may have found, but he takes his troubles in stride. He may lay low for a day or two, but soon enough he is back in his routine, no worse for wear.

Luna, it has been said, is a cat's cat. So true. He loves us, his people, with warm affection. But the heart and soul of his life is spent out in the suburban jungle, as if he were a tiny black panther.

The other day, I was quite surprised to discover Luna uncharacteristically lounging in the middle of the front yard, relaxed yet highly attentive to the sights and sounds of his territory. I loved catching this rare glimpse into our boy's mostly private outdoor life, and cherish this little scene of Luna in the leaves.