Tag: Kitten

Posted in Fiction, Nature stories

My Neighbour: The Exasperated Princess

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Is our cat weird?

Or is it because she is ours?

Author’s note: All incidents in this story are real and told with the least possible artistic liberty as possible.

Why do they have to change the bowl again? The water tastes all wrong! I don’t understand all this craze about different coloured water bowls.

First, it was shiny silver. I hated it. It tasted too sparkly clean.

Then it was white and red. It didn’t taste anything like red, just plain white!

So, I drank from Dadi‘s foot tub. It tasted amazing with a green undertone! But then Dadi stopped leaving water in it. What is wrong with these humans?

That is when I moved to the bathroom floor. It has such an earthy smell, and the roughened tiles tickle my tongue. Initially, the humans tried to keep the doors closed. But I refused to drink anything at all.

Finally, a couple of them started letting me drink from the bathroom floor, throwing fresh water on the floor for me to drink when no one else was looking. The best part was that the water tasted different, based on the soap and shampoo they were using. They tried to scrub out the fragrance but couldn’t do it entirely. I was so happy!

But then, I think I went a bit too far.

You see, mom (my real mom who taught me all things worth knowing) once told us of the time she drank from the toilet–the devine taste, sense of adventure, the rush of adrenaline at having to drink upside down… Well, I thought the toilet was right there for the taking, so I did what any cat worth her mice would do–I tried to drink too.

Honestly, I only managed to get on the rim of the commode. I was peeking in, looking for a way to get to the water without getting soaked, but that dratted Tai Ammi caught me before I could reach the water. Didn’t even get a sip!

Now they have started locking up the bathroom door all the time! They also called me “Bad Kitty” for drinking from the toilet! I don’t call them “Bad Kitty” when they drink all the black and orange sparkly water that makes your tongue go all tingly! (Well, I had to try it, so I licked a couple of drops from the floor. Ugh!)

Well, why can’t they give me the same space!

Sigh! I don’t understand humans. There is water lying around everywhere, fragrant and calling, but they have to drink tasteless stuff from bottles!

Next, they got me a food tray with a large and flat water area (since I was drinking from the floor). As if I care about a bunch stupid cockroach-sized animals waving at me from my food plate! I couldn’t leave any food around, afraid they would steal it behind my back! So, I declined to drink from it too. They forced me but I was resolute.

And then the neighbours gave them a plant. Since they didn’t have a pot and earth for it ready yet, they planted it in the brown mug with water. God! I love this stuff! The plant makes it taste exotic. I couldn’t stop myself and just had to take another sip and another, until I was always going back for more. When the little one spotted me in the act and started giggling and complaining, I thought this was it–the humans would take away my private heaven. But they all just sighed and went back to work.

So, obviously, I thought I got away with it.

Boy, was I mistaken! A couple of hours later, they bought a red earthen pot for me to drink in. Well, it did recreate the earthy smell well, but it didn’t have the wonderful brown flavor to it like the mug–plant water does taste good. I would have turned vegan, had my constitution allowed. So, I continued sipping from the plant mug to make a point.

So today, they moved the plant into my earthen pot and gave me the mug to drink!

Blasted people! When will they ever learn?!

Psst… About the toilet water, may be, it is an age-restriction thing. I inspected the commode again and the bowl seems to be built deeper, so you have to have a longer neck to drink. May be, I will try again next month. If nothing else, I will jump straight in. I’m not afraid to get my feet wet in the face of an adventure!

Author’s note: There is no greater happiness than seeing your children happy. I asked my daughter–now 9- years old and a fast reader–to be my first audience. The way she guffawed while reading was worth all the effort.

Posted in My life, Nature stories

My Neighbour | The Derobed Princess

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

What can I say? These humans are too unpredictable.

My mother had warned me. She told me to make sure these humans understand where they stand on the social totem pole; to look down upon them with contempt and deny anyone who is calling; to make an appearance only when it could not be helped and I did just the same for an entire month.

My subjects would pick me up, give me back rubs, belly rubs, and ear scratch. They would take me out riding on their shoulders, offer me their pillows and chest to sleep on, and offer treats freely, and I started thinking I could trust them to behave; that I was winning.

I was too naive.

It was getting hot with all my hair–being a Persian cat, I am rather proud of my legacy, even though it is rather a troubled to be groomed every day and bear the temperature. I had to remind these humans to get one of those super cooling machines, what do they call it…Yeah! Air Conditioner. So, I tried sleeping inside bathroom as mom had instructed (she said it was fastest way to get results) but they wouldn’t let me. So I drank from the bathroom floor whenever I could sneak in to make a point.

But instead of bringing an AC, they got that roaring monster–Cooler! I declined to be in the same room as that rowdy creature! So, eventually, I started sleeping right outside the bath in the wettest area to get my point across. I would then walk all over the bed and sofa, dripping water, so they would make sure I am never hot enough to do that.

One of them actually seemed to be intelligent enough to “get” me because she started talking about it being too hot for all that fur. I was sure, they would finally but an AC.

But rather than getting an AC, the tall beardy one took me out on a walk and (shudder) cut off my fur! Ah, the disgrace! They didn’t just shorten it. They removed it completely–tonsured me! Now, the only fur I have left is on my face, fingers and tail.

And now they have jokes floating around about squiggly squirrel, miniature lion and lizard with a beard–all directed at me! I hate all of them!

So what, if they offer me treats…I mean I would not say no to it but that’s not the point! Even if they give me one of those mind-blowing belly rubs, ear scratch, back rub…

Or pick me up to cuddle with me…

Okay, maybe I will let them off the hook if they increase the treat…

And it really isn’t hot anymore too. Being tonsured isn’t too bad and the little one did say I still look cute. So may be, I will let this one slide.

Author’s note: Narrated to me by our newest family member, Dora, in Mewish–a language I am learning pretty fast.

Dora calls me “Mew” with the shortest emphasise on the vowel. Depending on the times it is called upon, I can tell if it is for cuddles or something urgent, like kitty treats. Since pet grooming services aren’t available here, and it was too hot for four-inch fur, we had to get Dora tonsured. Even though we are calling her a lizard, fake lion and a squirrel, she is still the cutest to us.

PS: What do you do if your kitten decides to sleep on your face?

Posted in My life, Nature stories

Hook, Line, Sinker

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

After years of being a dog person, I finally fell in love with a cat who broke my heart. (Check out my post My Neighbour: The Queen to find out about this drama.) Deciding that I didn’t want to be treated as an automatic scratch-post, I decided to never get anywhere close to anything feline.

That is why when my brother in law brought in another kitten to foster, I kept my distance and didn’t go anywhere near her for one very long night. The fact that my fingers itched to touch her was warning enough. But the next day, I had to run interference since she wasn’t eating or drinking anything.

I am not a kitten expert but this one is Tiny with a capital T. She is a little bigger than the size of my palm. The guy who gave her to us took her from the litter when she was less than a month. She is a month old now. It felt like the time I held my daughter for the first time. She was so delicate I was afraid to hurt her. One look from her doll-face and I fell. Hard.

Ever since then, I had been trying to keep my distance, all the while telling my brother-in-law to send her back to her mother (can’t happen since they are in another state) and check what to feed her before feeding it to her. Apparently, the guy who had gave her to us was feeding her Buffalo’s milk with chocolate syrup so that she would eat something since she wasn’t. And she can’t digest it. Now, this fostering between her supplier and next forever home feels like a rescue mission. My brother-in-law has consulted people who know kitty stuff and I’m hoping he has finally got it right.

Because if he hasn’t, I might not be able to deal with the loss.

All the while I have been avoiding her, she has been claiming a part of my heart. I have been visiting her on the pretext on accompanying my daughter. Everyone here knows I am bluffing but they have enough sense not to call me out. When I go, I watch her quietly as she plays with her ball. I sometimes push the ball around to draw her out to give her a chance to attack it. That’s the extent of it. But my eyes never leave her.

I think she prefers me that way.

Because yesterday, when I was sitting on the bed watching her eat, she quietly came to me and climbed on my leg into my lap and sat there. Just sat there. And ignored my daughter who actually came to play. My daughter kept on patting her own lap, inviting her to play, twirling her fingers to catch her attention, while Coco sat chewing and licking my fingers in one hand while I stroked her with the other hand.

And I fell in love.

And she isn’t mine. She belongs to her forever family. She will only be here for this month, if that.

Well, what can I say? It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Sigh!