Some weeks are better than others, and the week just ending was one of the good ones.

I finally traded in my antique cell phone for a modern phone that takes pictures. (No, I have not advanced to an iPhone. The entry price and the monthly charges are not in my austerity budget. Besides, I’m not ready for a phone that’s smarter than I am.)  The old phone goes to the Smithsonian.

Much more importantly this week, I rescued a cat! Doesn’t that sound noble? Or maybe the cat rescued me? To be truthful, the actual rescue was accomplished by a neighbor. I was merely the beneficiary of serendipity.

I’d been wanting to add a dog or cat to my small household, but was  too lazy or too indecisive to get around to it.  I’d postponed it to the fall, after the busy season at this seaside resort, where I rent low-cost year-round housing. Long story short, had I gone  to the animal shelter, I would have found dozens of worthy cats, and been wracked by indecision and guilt. Also, the shelters charge a fee to cover vet expenses. My neighbor is much more generous. My homeless cat was delivered free, with a starter kit of food and cat litter. (And as they say in this rural area where felines are plentiful and popular: “Who BUYS a cat??”)

There were two sister cats, four years old. The goal was to keep them together, but how many people are looking to adopt TWO extra cats. So Lola, the quiet, timid one, came to live with me. We are getting along famously.

Where’s the picture? As you may know, black cats and black dogs are difficult to photograph. And as you may have suspected, I haven’t quite mastered the cell-phone camera.

You’ll have to take my word for it that Lola is the kind of black cat with green eyes that usually gets named “Midnight.” Good thing the previous owner had already selected “Lola.” She is pretty and sweet, though slightly overweight. She’s all black, except for long, white whiskers, a white patch on her throat, and one white foot.

This post is what TV and radio news people call a “teaser.”  If you come back tomorrow, or the next day, you might find a picture of lovely Lola. — John Hayden