MY WELCOMING PARTY

He first came to me like a wet rat, emaciated and shivering. He looked like he hadn’t eaten for days. Luckily, I had some food left in the fridge, which I served him. He gobbled it up in seconds. He stayed around, waiting for the rain to let up. From then on, he started hanging around outside my flat, walking up and down like a sentinel on duty, on the lookout for interlopers. At times, he’d run up to me when he saw me returning from work or running errands and then walk me to the apartment.

“All clear, señorita,” I’d think he’d be thinking when we walked to my flat from the main gate.

He’s the silent type although, occasionally, he lets out a little growl when he doesn’t approve of his dinner. He prefers salmon or tuna – thank you very much. He’s not haughty though; I think he chalks it up to being vocal, of not being afraid of letting his thoughts known.

B, as I eventually came to call him, proved to be level-headed. When his “little brother” arrived serendipitously at my door steps, looking sickly and on the verge of death, B, far being territorial, shared his new pad and food with him. Whitey, as we christened him, was far scrawnier than B and could barely climb up the steps so B and I nursed him back to health until he was able to walk around with ease and his eyes were no longer sunken. His coat started thickening and shining too. I’m guessing B gave Whitey some vocal lessons, turning Whitey’s soft croaking into a full, deep meow because Whitey started sounding a whole like B.

Like two rambunctious kids, I’d see B and Whitey recreate a wrestling scene from the WWF on sunny days. B would always have Whitey in a tight headlock, but that didn’t deter Whitey from head-butting him when he cut lose. B was cool about the head-butting. He’d get Whitey in another headlock later.

A special treat for an extraordinary cat - head massage

They’re completely poles apart. B is people-friendly; Whitey runs away from people. B likes to pose for the camera and Whitey raises his paw to hide his face. B carries himself with elegance while Whitey is a bit of a slob. However, both are pernickety about their meals. They’d very much prefer salmon or tuna flavour pellets or tuna flakes on their plates, not gourmet flavour from Whiskas or Friskas or sardines.

Physically, they’re different too. B is the tanned one while Whitey has a fairer complexion. Their tails are distinctly theirs – B’s stands straight as he walks about the grounds while Whitey’s is folded so it measures half of B’s even when it’s standing erect. It’s a genetic thing, I suppose.

B’s no longer a kitten and White’s fast growing up. I now have two sentinels and two true mensches welcoming me home at the end of day.

Photography by Kinan Luhur Wirastani

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3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Hady on October 3, 2010 at 6:17 pm

    I often see and sit next to B while I was waiting for my driver to pick me up after school 🙂

    Reply

  2. i enjoyed reading this piece…
    on a totally unrelated note,,, luv the shoes 😀

    Reply

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