Lucky’s Legacy
Before Blaq Cat was an idea — before the servers, before the design, before it all — there was Lucky.
A hand-carved black cat, barely larger than a fingertip.
Carved from African black ebony wood.
Passed down not in ceremony, but in silence.
Never spoken about loudly. Never lost.
The InfantrymanPte, Charles "Charlie" Boorman, East Kent Regiment (The Buffs)
It began in the trenches, the cold mud of the front lines.
Great-great uncle Charlie served in the infantry — trench warfare, bayonets and blizzards, orders shouted over the shellfire.
And in his breast pocket: Lucky.
No one remembers exactly how Charlie came to have him. Only that he kept him close through every order, every moment too quiet for comfort., every night too long to sleep through.
Charlie made it home.
And one day, when the call came for the next generation, he passed Lucky on.
The Rear GunnerFlight Lieutenant,, Albert Eric Boorman, No. 40 Squadron, Wellingtons RAF
That boy was named Eric.
By the time he was just a man, the world was burning again.
Eric stood on top of Blackheath and watched the Surrey Docks explode into fire.
By the next day, he and his brothers were off to volunteer
They trained them to navigate, to engineer, to lock, to load, to fly.
Not to lead — but to be the last line.
To sit in the cold steel belly of their aircraft — Eric as rear gunner. Last eyes. First target.
And every time he climbed aboard, he rubbed Lucky once.
Then twice.
Then waited for the engines to growl.
25 missions became 45.
He was shot down. Twice.
First — a mission in Tobruk Harbour.
He made the drop, but the aircraft didn’t make it back clean.
They had to ditch in Benghazi and walk across the desert for five days back to Alexandria
to fly again.
Second — returning to Malta in a Sunderland flying boat.
Then one fateful Christmas Eve.
The back door creaked open.
Eric stepped inside, Lucky still in his pocket.
He looked at his mother and said:
“What’s for tea, Mum?”The Quiet That FollowedEric never bragged. Never told stories for effect.
But he kept Lucky.
Through marriage. Fatherhood. Hardship. Work.
On shelves. In drawers. By his side.
He didn’t preach. He lived.
By a code, not a slogan.
By clarity, not chaos.
Now, We Build With Him
Blaq Cat wasn’t built to be clever.
It was built because the alternative was unacceptable.
Lucky isn’t a mascot.
He’s a reminder.
That calm doesn’t come from stillness.
That fortune follows those who show up when it’s hardest.
That the job isn’t done until you’re home — and even then, not always.
We Are Blaq Cat
We don’t believe in luck.
We believe in legacy.
And we carry him with us — not to be seen,
but so we never forget how we got here.
Through Lucky
We remember them.
We are here for them now.
And we will remain — for those who come next.
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