Of Feline and Affinity
When I first set eyes on you, you pushed your warm brow against my forehead, more forcefully than I ever expected. Your emerald eyes looked into mine and we spoke for the first time. Chien looked on amazed. 'ZZ, he adores you!'. I had already fallen in love.
I took you home, and you quickly chose to hide. When I feared that you would never speak to me again, you emerged, a crown of confidence as bright as your eyes, sparkling over your charcoal head.
Then came the ribbons, your fascination with everything purple, and your intentional 'dumbstruck' gaze that drew smiles from all onlookers. In your eyes, I could see the inner gleam of the delight that you gleaned from these human reactions. As Ranjini clicked away, you played all the purple into her photos, and loved the attention.
Intelligence defined your every movement. And whenever you chose to fly, you soared. The heights that you climbed stunned me. It stunned Bobby as he flicked your cat toy measuring the next level you could jump to. It stunned Tami, when we came home one day to discover, you had found your way to the catnip on top of the high refrigerator.
Your sharpness granted you all the territory and all the domestic distinction of a feline status that a cat could dream of in a household.
You liked to walk, and you walked a lot, with and without me. I never worried that you may get lost; you always found your way home. You could identify our dwelling in ways that amazed me. Some dark nights, you would speed towards the front door of our home before I could discern the path. And if you wanted a breath of fresh air, a closed screen door would not keep you confined; you found a way to slide it open.
Drinking water was always a spectacular event. The water had to come from a dripping faucet, and you picked which one. You would smell it first, and then decide if the taste was good enough to proceed to lap. Once, Cindy came to check on you, you ran up the stairs and led her to the bath tub. She understood what you were trying to show her, and that made her laugh; you made her laugh.
Hiding under rugs was your favorite game. Many times, friends could not make out your body outline for the blackness of your coat under the rug. You baffled Hend, when she came to visit. She could not tell where you were. And pens, you loved pens. You loved to roll them on my desk, and swat the caps if I chose to make them peek from under. With a single paw you could pull the cap towards you, observe it come off and fall on the floor, and then proceed to roll it down there.
You had character; you have character. Even now, as you struggle to maintain normalcy for all the known face-saving reasons, your character surfaces. Now, as you brilliantly hide your pain, and try to compete with Chocolates as she devours her food, and you peck at yours. Now, as you attempt to climb the stairs and not look down, and haul yourself to the last step. Now, as you seek the sun in the backyard and contemplate the changes that your body is going through. Now, as you try to perch yourself on the sofa edge and stand still as the pain overcomes you. Now, as you're dying...You still have character, always and forever.
I took you home, and you quickly chose to hide. When I feared that you would never speak to me again, you emerged, a crown of confidence as bright as your eyes, sparkling over your charcoal head.
Then came the ribbons, your fascination with everything purple, and your intentional 'dumbstruck' gaze that drew smiles from all onlookers. In your eyes, I could see the inner gleam of the delight that you gleaned from these human reactions. As Ranjini clicked away, you played all the purple into her photos, and loved the attention.
Intelligence defined your every movement. And whenever you chose to fly, you soared. The heights that you climbed stunned me. It stunned Bobby as he flicked your cat toy measuring the next level you could jump to. It stunned Tami, when we came home one day to discover, you had found your way to the catnip on top of the high refrigerator.
Your sharpness granted you all the territory and all the domestic distinction of a feline status that a cat could dream of in a household.
You liked to walk, and you walked a lot, with and without me. I never worried that you may get lost; you always found your way home. You could identify our dwelling in ways that amazed me. Some dark nights, you would speed towards the front door of our home before I could discern the path. And if you wanted a breath of fresh air, a closed screen door would not keep you confined; you found a way to slide it open.
Drinking water was always a spectacular event. The water had to come from a dripping faucet, and you picked which one. You would smell it first, and then decide if the taste was good enough to proceed to lap. Once, Cindy came to check on you, you ran up the stairs and led her to the bath tub. She understood what you were trying to show her, and that made her laugh; you made her laugh.
Hiding under rugs was your favorite game. Many times, friends could not make out your body outline for the blackness of your coat under the rug. You baffled Hend, when she came to visit. She could not tell where you were. And pens, you loved pens. You loved to roll them on my desk, and swat the caps if I chose to make them peek from under. With a single paw you could pull the cap towards you, observe it come off and fall on the floor, and then proceed to roll it down there.
You had character; you have character. Even now, as you struggle to maintain normalcy for all the known face-saving reasons, your character surfaces. Now, as you brilliantly hide your pain, and try to compete with Chocolates as she devours her food, and you peck at yours. Now, as you attempt to climb the stairs and not look down, and haul yourself to the last step. Now, as you seek the sun in the backyard and contemplate the changes that your body is going through. Now, as you try to perch yourself on the sofa edge and stand still as the pain overcomes you. Now, as you're dying...You still have character, always and forever.