Black Pepper, or Kara Biber in Turkish, his mother tongue, owed his name to his jet-black fur. I got to know him as a very loving cat. He was quite good at purring and was always ready for a bit of fuss: cuddling up to me, some scratching in the neck. It was quite clear though, that he was getting a bit older… From a distance, one would spot that gorgeous jet-black fur, from up close he was starting to look a bit scruffy. It appeared more dull and less well-groomed.
But without the shadow of a doubt he could cuddle with the best of them! Whenever I would leave the bedroom door ajar at night, he would be the first cat in the household of nine felines to discover. Little Yeter would settle for a small corner at the foot end of the bed; you wouldn’t even notice she was there. But not Black Pepper!
One night I felt him cozying up to the length of my spine. He appeared to long for closeness. It was a – in the spirit of Black Pepper – totally loving gesture. Nevertheless he managed to spoil the momentum. Caught up by his self-indulgence he slowly began to stretch his paws, making pumping motions with his nails. Straight into my back.
I will never forget the startled expression on his face when I chased him out of the bedroom! From that moment on, I always left the bedroom door closed at night.