Feline friend

At first it was annoying to hear the tawny tomcat demand fish every morning by meowing away outside the window of my dining room but a few days later, I was surprised when I realized that I had started missing him. It became ritualistic to have him around at our meal times, morning and night. About a year later, the tomcat became quite chubby, courtesy his Piscian diet and my unuttered vows of love. Then came his family of two kittens and their elegant mother. One of them was white, streaked with grey, and the younger one, orange, a shade that was a tad lighter than his daddy's. The white, shy one always eluded my grasp and the orange one was impossible to locate, until one winter night.

Sensing some unusual noises in the kitchen, I decided to unlock its door, fearing that I might find a thief that must have entered through the back door right next to the kitchen, in our moment of inattention (Yikes!), and got locked up. Well, this intruder was none other than the tiny Garfield - the orange fluffball scurried out of the door as soon as I opened it. I watched, half in horror, half in amazement, as it agilely climbed up the grilles of our window, staring at me, as if asking me to throw the casements open, so he could go out - he was trapped. That was the moment that sealed our bond - the kitten knew the one person he could trust, the one who would let him out whenever signalled to. I noticed thereafter how much he longed to be let in - it was no longer a trap for him; our home was now his home as well, he was my pet without chains.

Junglee, as he came to be known, became the apple of my eye. He would rush near my table at lunchtime, sleep on his favourite rug, listen intently to my sister's guitar strumming, and never complain about the little blankets I had made for him to keep him warm at night. He was particularly gifted at giving the cockroaches a hard time, often inviting his feline friends who watched his feats in silence. When his emerald eyes glinted in the dark, he looked nothing less than a star, always loved unconditionally by me. He would take proud strides in our courtyard all day, and yet be modest enough to purr at my feet, brush his little ears against my ankles, and be my book-reading companion, often falling asleep on my lap, his little body heaving calmly, feeling safe and cared for in my company.

Our friendship was not approved of by my family. They were averse to keeping pets, for fear of animal-transmitted diseases, and the mourning following their perishing. As if that was not the only threat to our bond, soon came our turn to out of this rented home to a swanky flat.

Junglee watched wide-eyed as our home became a cacophony of noises - furniture being moved out, electric lights and panels being detached from the walls, and the familiar aroma of Bengali fish curries missing from our kitchen. I could tell that his world was falling apart, by the way Junglee kept tugging at the hem of my kurti - his poignant eyes clearly articulating the millions of questions barraging his tender, inexperienced heart. His eyes followed me as my family shoved me into the car, muttering Dyptheria and Whooping cough, as I begged them to take Junglee along.

"If the cat comes to you, you can keep it", admonished my family. I realized that I would have to let Junglee go, and besides, cats, unlike canines, do not have good noses, so it would be impossible for Junglee to locate me.

Our new spacious flat was a few blocks down our old home. The thought of peeking by the old thoroughfares was irresistible, and I did stop by to see if Junglee was being cared for by the new tenants. What was even more irksome was the perplexed or indifferent response which my queries about a cat were met with - I felt like Junglee's Daddy cat now, my words fell like irritating meows on reluctant human ears. 

It was not long before one stormy night, sensing someone softly grating at our wooden door, I opened it, and there he was - a wet Junglee, staring triumphantly at my dewy eyes.

Eventually, my family accepted defeat, when I explained the inexplicable to them: you see, cats are not good sniffers but they are good stalkers! Big homes come and go but sweet friendships are for ever, and Junglee has proved that to a tee...

[To Macavity, Skimbleshanks, Crookshanks, and above all, to Junglee]