Life with a very beautiful black cat
Mascara is my very beautiful black cat – not the wand to emphasise your eyelashes!
I am a big believer in serendipity.
One Sunday, eight years ago, I walked into the local shop to get the paper and some milk… and walked out with a tiny black kitten.
Nobody wanted her because she was black.
Since then, she has been the most amazing, affectionate furry friend — and I feel very lucky to have her in my life.
She’s eight now, so like me, she’s entering her mid-life girth era.
At her yearly vet check-up, she’s told she needs to lose a kilo — a bit like me when I step on the scales and it tells me I need to lose a stone.
Mascara’s posts are here to bring you a sense of joy — and to wish you a purrfect day.
The Personality of a Black Cat
Mascara, Head of Household (Human Staff Division)
Black cats have long been wrapped in myth — from bad luck to witchy folklore — but the reality is far less dramatic and far more interesting. Like any cat, their personality isn’t defined by colour, yet many owners will tell you black cats tend to be particularly affectionate, intuitive, and quietly confident.
Mascara somehow manages to be both the stereotype and the contradiction. She has the poise, the watchful intelligence, the almost mystical presence… and then, without warning, complete chaos. Equal parts elegance and mischief, she proves that while black cats may share certain traits, each one still writes their own rules.
Mascara even has her own logo….
The tea cup represents the burn that runs alongside the garden.
Beauty, Presence, and Pure Attitude
Mascara doesn’t enter a room — she arrives. All velvet shadow and golden gaze, she carries herself with the kind of effortless elegance most of us spend a lifetime trying to fake. There’s something unmistakably powerful in her stillness, in the way she watches, waits, decides.
She is softness and control. Beauty without apology. A quiet, feline embodiment of feminine energy — not performative, not seeking approval, simply being. And in that, she reminds me: true presence isn’t loud… it’s undeniable.
What living with a black cat actually teaches you
Living with a black cat is a quiet masterclass in letting go of control. Mascara does what she wants, when she wants — and somehow, life bends around it. There’s humour in the chaos, but also something deeper: a reminder that independence isn’t cold, it’s self-assured.
She doesn’t perform, she doesn’t seek approval — she simply exists, fully herself. And in that, she teaches you to loosen your grip, trust your instincts, and maybe take yourself a little less seriously.
Why Black Cats Deserve Better PR
Black cats have been saddled with some truly questionable branding over the years — bad luck, witchcraft, general suspicion… all wildly unfair for a creature whose main agenda is snacks and naps. In reality, they’re just cats — often affectionate, clever, and quietly confident — with a slightly more dramatic aesthetic.
If anything, black cats deserve better PR. They’re sleek, expressive, and effortlessly stylish — the little black dress of the feline world. And if Mascara is anything to go by, the only “bad luck” involved is assuming you’re the one in charge.
Mascara on Rodent Patrol, working off her menopausal midriff.
Final Thoughts: Mascara, Chaos, and Unexpected Charm
Mascara is beauty, mischief, and attitude wrapped into one impossibly fluffy package. She disrupts, demands, disappears, and then reappears as if nothing ever happened — entirely on her terms.
And somehow, that’s the charm. The chaos softens you, the presence steadies you, and before you realise it, she’s not just a cat in your life — she’s part of how you see it.
Mascara’s Gallery
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A story of pure love from Libra one of our fabulous Aphrodites.
HOW MY HEART HEALED I got married at the age of 22, far too young. I was from a broken, abusive home with an absent father. In Mark, I saw a man that I thought would be the answer, someone to look after and care for me. There were many red flags before the big day which, I foolishly, chose to ignore, not least of which was being sexually abused by my future father in law. I told Mark but no-one else, he was dismissive and refused to believe it. Whoa! That should have been my exit, how naive and stupid I was! We bought a house and adopted a rescue puppy, Bella. She was only 11 weeks old and had been dreadfully abused by her previous owner. She was my everything and as it turned out, my rescuer. Only 10 months into our marriage, Mark and I were at marriage guidance counselling (as it was called then), it didn’t work. Within 2 years we separated and I moved out, with Bella. I cried for months, I grieved for what should have been and I became reclusive. The only constant in my life was that four legged bundle of unconditional love, she comforted me when she sensed the tears and guarded me, a young woman on her own in a new town. Bella was the reason I got up every day, she was more than my pet, she was my guardian angel. She remained by my side through the ups and downs, the divorce and the death of a parent. We finally settled in a new and very happy home and Bella never left my side. She lived until she was 15 and the day she left my life was a day I’ll never forget. She lives on in my heart and I’ll be forever grateful for finding that little pup, in need of a rescuing and ultimately being the one that rescued me. Libra 63 Surrey