Cat Tales

Response to a prompt by Liberty Forrest, Author

My mild-mannered, even-tempered father went rigid with wrath.

My brother, the ultimate arguer, who never responds to phone calls, or sees messages on his phone, went ballistic, when he heard the news. My sister and sister-in-law, fierce, inveterate cat lovers, were stunned and enraged, at the same time.

For, in far-away Australia, my rational son, the scientist, was being ‘persuaded’ by a vet, to get one of the limbs of the one-week old kitten, which had strayed into his backyard, amputated. Apparently, the ‘Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,’ ( to quote Robert Burns) was walking with a limp: and the vet had a long list of things that could happen, if the limp was to continue. And ‘three-legged cats are very happy and adjust to circumstances’, apparently.

My logical son, the engineer, another cat-lover, was livid, delivering a few pithy, frosty statements about ‘certain people who have lost the ability to think for themselves.’

Back in Mumbai, the man I live with, and I, were alternately lambasting and cajoling my son not to practice medicine on the kitten.

Thankfully, the combined efforts and persuasions of the entire family weighed against the opinion of the vet, and the kitten was left whole.

When we went to Australia, Raaz, the kitten, was about three months old, walking, running and leaping all over the place, without a limp. Incurably curious, she would sit in front of us, her tail folded neatly around her, regarding us unblinkingly.

Then she would turn around, scamper away and then sit facing us again, as though daring us to a race. She would attack anything that moved, including her own, very bushy tail.

The man I live with, loudly and publicly dismissive of cats and kittens,(“I like dogs. They are loyal.”) tried very hard to pretend that he was impervious to Raaz’s wiles. When he felt no one was looking, he would crumple up tiny bits of foil and throw them to her, and she would go nuts, running around, kicking, tossing and attacking the foil ball, and hiding behind the curtain, with only her nose showing, to get him to throw more of them.

When she was tired of that game, she would quietly clamber up the sofa he was sitting on, pad around to the back, and pat the back of his head, or stick out a small paw and touch the hair on the nape of his neck. Sometimes, she would just sit on the sofa facing him, staring intently and unnervingly at him.

Whenever either of us went to the washroom, she would try to get in with us, or sit outside patiently, waiting for us to come out. From time to time, she would slide a small pink paw beneath the door, and wave it at us, as though asking us why we were taking so long.

That was in 2019. B.C. Before Corona.

We stayed last week with her humans, and her, and she has become a sleek, confident and very supercilious cat. She still thinks the washroom mysterious. Why else would we sit in there for so long. She tries to get in ahead of us, and sits at the door, waiting for us to come in. She doesn’t rush around like she used to, earlier. She might just pat at a toy mouse that we fling at her, just to humour us.

She has become royalty, our Raaz.

And I am grateful, every time I look at her, that better sense prevailed, and she didn’t have to go under the knife for a malady that naturally cured itself.

©️ 2022 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.

This story is a(nother) response to the prompt by Liberty Forrest, Author. I hope I am not too late to submit this. (*Editor’s note: I have no time limits on invitations to write about certain subjects!)

(There is another kitten waiting in line, with another story. She is/was three days old, when found, abandoned near my Kerala home.)