iCat

A person once called me a ‘catophile’. Its meaning is similar to ‘audiophile’ but this is about cats. Don’t mistake ‘catophile’ with ‘zoophile’, they are different. I love cats, no, I’m obsessed with them. I have a kitty mobile phone holder, kitty mouse and a kitty soft toy. Visitors to my room often question my stuffed animal --- a ‘big man’ playing with cotton furries.

 

I question back, ‘what is wrong with that?’

 

They answer, ‘very, very wrong’, unanimously.

 

Due to certain circumstances, I couldn’t keep a cat. Mom has asthma (so do I but I’m all out for one) and I was still in the army. Should I raise a cat, I wouldn’t have time to take care of it; not forgetting the financial burden that will add weight to what is already heavy. So there went my wish of living with a cat.

 

Most of the time I just make friends with the strays below my block or anywhere these felines roam. I simply love them; no idea why. Mom used to ask me why I like them so much even though I was born in the year of a rat, live like a rat and eat like a rat.

 

---

 

One fine day (as it always is before disaster strikes), I happily came home from army camp to enjoy my weekend. I decided to take a longer route around the desolated area of my neighbourhood (I enjoy quietness once in a while). A mew in distress alerted me. I quickly went in search for the cat that was calling for help and found a stray lying wounded on the ground. It had nasty injuries as if it ran into a fight with a dog.

 

I was at a loss of what to do. Should I call the SPCA? Or should I just bring it to a doctor? If I chose the second option I would have to bear all medical costs. As I pondered on, my inner voice gave me a good scolding --- if I had delayed any further, it would die!

 

So I carried the wounded cat in my arms and hailed a cab as soon as I saw one. It took me a while to convince the driver about bringing me to the only animal hospital I knew. As soon as it reached, I rushed into the hospital without paying the driver. The nurses (or whatever you call them) brought it in for an emergency rescue without questions.

 

Sighing with relieve, I went back to pay the taxi uncle only to receive another scolding. I hoped this moment of impulse had not brought me any misfortune.

 

The vet came out few hours later and asked me a few question. After learning my story, he asked if I was prepared to bear all costs for her (the cat). Then he went on saying there’s a chance she could be saved but he could give her the injection right away to reduce the pain. The latter was a less costly option; however my heart hurt badly as I thought about it. I agreed to pay everything. The pain was gone, yet came a new heartache.

 

A week later I went back to the doctor’s to pick her up when the hospital called. She was once again healthy and normal. I was happy until I saw the receipt; two hundred for her treatment. Fine, I expected that. On top of it’s another one hundred sterilisation fee. I blanked out when I received the bill. He knew I was going to raise her so he did that without my consent.

 

Okay, at least the hospital gave me a plastic cage for free. Mind you I’m not a cheap person but army pay wasn’t a lot to start with. And I just received it two days ago ... my God (never thought I would say that as an atheist), almost ninety percent of my pay gone!

 

She seemed pretty quiet; maybe she was scared of the unfamiliar environment. I took a cab home (double ouch), not that I could take public transport.

 

Throughout the journey I was thinking what to do with her. She was a stray; maybe it’sn’t a good idea to bring her home. Though I already told mom about this I’m having doubts. If I let her go she might hurt herself badly again. Pondering for a while, I chose to keep her. After all, I had already sent her to the doctor’s; it didn’t feel right to let her get injured outside again.

 

I brought her home knowing zilch about cat care. Like I said, I know nothing about cat care so internet was my best friend. Only then I learnt about litter boxes, toys and scratching posts. I couldn’t get everything that night; I hope she’dn’t relieve herself anywhere in the house, especially my room or my parents’ room. Mom is going to scream if she does.

 

I sighed.

 

I don’t know if my obsession with kitties has brought me doom or what!

 

Next day I went to the nearest pet shop to get all the necessary items. I didn’t know how much they cost in total. I just gave the sales assistant my card to swipe and punched in my PIN number. I chucked the receipt aside as soon as I reached home. I was afraid if I saw the total amount I might faint.

 

As I was preparing the litter box with the pack of filler, Mom asked me what was that used for. I explained that was for cats to do their business in. I felt proud to let Mom know I didn’t bring this animal home with zero knowledge of raising it. Mom told me that was unnecessary because she knew how to use the human toilet. I didn’t believe her. As if proving her point, the cat went pass us into the toilet and urinated into the bowl.

 

You could say I was shocked that moment. I was more devastated in fact. I quickly dug up the receipt in the heap of mess of my room to see how much I spent on the litter box and filler. The world collapsed around me that moment. The total amount for everything (including the hospital fees) exceeded my month’s pay. On one side I was trying to save up, on the other I spent like nobody’s business.

 

That month was hard on me. I almost requested for me to be confined in camp during weekends (free meals) just for the cat. Nevertheless, my life with her started that moment. Although I’m not home every day (only weekends), Mom told me lots about her. In a way, I felt closer even though I was away.

---

I brought home some kitty toys. She didn’t seem to like them. This made me scratch my head. I thought cats were natural hunters so they would go for anything that moves quickly but no, she was different. Instead, she went for my iPod. I had no idea an iPod --- a rectangular mp3 player could be such an amusing toy for a cat. Now that I think of it, I left my iPod on the floor once with music still playing. Since that day I believe, she started to play with my iPod.

 

I remember reading in articles about cats and dogs being able to catch high pitched sounds that humans cannot. What is music to our ears is not to them.

 

Could it be she was trying to shut it up? Then again, she still fondled with it when it’s turned off. Cats ... I don’t think I would ever get around to fully understand them. Maybe it’s amusing to her but it’s not to me. If you’d seen how cats play with their toys you’d know what I mean. I spent three hundred bucks on this mp3 player and now it became a toy for her.

 

Not that I mind all the minor scratches and saliva. It really frightens me when she released the merciless ‘Claw Of Death’.

 

My iPod somehow survived. It’s a miracle, so I named her ‘iCat’, in memory of her love with iPods. My friend visited me once with his iPod nano. I warned him about iCat but he wouldn’t listen. It almost ended up in iCat’s Jaws Of Destruction. I felt bad, very bad. Maybe I should’ve let her chew on it instead.

 

---

 

I had a problem with her. No, she had an issue with me. I swear. She’d come to me meowing as if wanting me to pet her. But when I got closer, she backed away. If she could talk, she’d say something like ‘get your hands away from me you perv’. Alright, fine, so I had a stash of adult material hidden away inside the drawer. Maybe she found it but how would she know what those are? She was driving me crazy teasing me like that every day when I’m home.

 

She had no troubles with Mom though Mom didn’t like her a lot. No idea why. Maybe because Mom was the one who feed her every day?

 

I asked Mom one day how did she let the cat listen to her. Nothing much she said, just reward her whenever she does something good. I was amazed. Then she continued saying that was how I was brought up. I wanted to protest but it’s true.

 

---

 

For the past few months I had been going out with ‘cat fur by product t-shirts’. People were staring me as if I skin cats alive to design my own clothes. A person from the SPCA approached me once, no thanks to iCat.

 

Mom told me whenever she folds my clothes and put them on the sofa, iCat would roll on it ... every day. I thought it’s abnormal for a cat to lose so much fur but the doctor assured it’s normal --- that was one week worth of fur here. Apparently she loved to roll fur on my clothes (note, mine only) before grooming herself. I saw that once with my own eyes when I was at home. I felt amused till she threw away a shirt full of fur and carried on with another clean one.

 

I thought that was a sign of our relationship getting closer. It cheered me up a little until she gave me the ‘get your hands away from me you perv’ attitude. I didn’t know what’s wrong with iCat, seriously: she loves Mom (not me) but love my stuff.

 

I tried asking those who lived with cats for a long time. One even asked me if I touched anywhere sensitive (grrr ...). No one gave me an exact answer. No one knew what was on her mind. I didn’t feel like bothering anymore.

 

---

 

Despite all, iCat was a real gem when sleeping. Whenever I’m home, she’d adhere to a strict timing of sleeping early with me. Cats were nocturnal, so it’s sweet of her to do that. It’s a profound feeling to have such a sweet animal sleeping beside you. Those were also the only times I could pet her.

 

My dream of iCat being the cutest cat in the world ended the first night she slept beside me. Three in the morning I was awakened by a sharp pain in my chest. I thought it’s my asthma working up again until I saw a giant fur ball on me. She guided me to the door (Mom deliberately left the door open, gates closed for iCat) so that I could open the gates for her. Not that she couldn’t go through, she wanted me (specifically) to open the gates, three in the morning. When I’m not at home, she’d go out herself without bothering Mom (or Dad).

 

She usually returns at nine or ten in the morning. Whenever I’m home, she’d want me to open the gates to welcome her back. Whenever I do that, she’d rub herself against me. My heart melts whenever she does that. I’m being trained by a cat. Wonderful, simply wonderful.

 

Mom on the other hand, didn’t bother at all because she knew iCat could come in with gates closed. So even if I tried to hide in my room (or when I’m in the toilet) iCat would give these annoying meows until I attend to her.

 

My friend said it best about cats and dogs --- ‘Dogs think you’re Gods, Cats think they’re Gods.’

 

On a lighter note, Mom was happy with iCat’s hygiene. Unlike dogs, cats don’t have an odour because they clean themselves umpteen times every day.

 

Then again, with Mom taking care of iCat whenever I’m not home worried me more than anything because of her asthma. I recalled when I used to have rabbits during childhood; Mom’s asthma attack was very serious. So far she was alright so I chucked my worries aside.

 

---

 

As my national service was ending in a few months’ time, I could take off more often to stay with iCat. Now that I think about it, iCat had been with me for a year now. Time flies without anyone noticing. I got used to iCat while she got used to me. There still existed a minor communication barrier but it wasn’t an issue too big.

 

The decision I made a year ago was correct. iCat had filled an empty hole in my heart even though I still didn’t like some things she did (e.g training me ...). Other than that, she was a great companion to have.

 

iCat woke me up again, three in the afternoon. Naps were very important to me because we didn’t have much time to sleep in the army. I felt so annoyed I almost threw things at her. No one disturbs my naps. Not even Mom. So I ignored her. When she snapped I wanted to hit her (I hate it when she thinks she’s my boss) but she ran out of my room continuing to snarl. Her back was arched with fur fiercely erected. I knew something was wrong.

 

I followed her to my parents’ room to find Mom having difficulty breathing. I quickly gave her a few puffs of my inhaler as I frantically punched the buttons on my phone. The ambulance sent her to the hospital in time. Though her condition was not serious, the doctor wanted her to stay for a week at least to monitor her health. iCat saved the day. I felt so ashamed when I went home that day. iCat’s glare made me even more guilty.

 

I knew she was worried for Mom but I didn’t know how to tell her she was alright. So I just gave her few gentle strokes and fed her some tidbits. What Mom said about how I was brought up would forever embed in my mind.

 

She gave me the ‘keep your hands away from me you perv’ attitude again after finishing. This time however, I knew what she wanted. I called up the hospital with a special request. Got scolded by the head nurse as if I didn’t know animal fur was bad for asthma patients. I felt like an idiot. I almost hang up the phone but after hearing my story they agreed to a special arrangement. They had to let Mom wear a mask before I could bring iCat to her.

 

That was fine with me so I brought her to see Mom the next day. Mom was happy to see iCat. I had not seen Mom this happy for many years now. I guess that means we still keep iCat but with special arrangements (i.e keeping inhalers within reach, more house cleaning, wear a mask when necessary). iCat too was happy to see Mom. She was rolling on her the moment I opened the cage.

 

For hygiene issues, we only had half an hour with Mom so I had to force iCat back into the cage.

 

I had a lot on my mind when heading home. This little incident made me realise how I should take care of my parents more. How I should be with them even more. It’s like they always say --- you never know the importance until losing it. Knowing it and feeling it were two different things.

 

As I stood in front of the lift, I thought I would let iCat go. I told her in human tongue she could go anywhere she wanted. Just come back for dinner. When I entered the lift, she followed. I guess she too was tired. Oh wait, cats are nocturnal creatures...

 

A lady entered the lift after we did and iCat started to rub herself against her. I thought this was my chance to hit on this lady by apologising first and...

 

    “Oh Aihleen!” The lady exclaimed.

 

Ah well, there went my chance. No wait, this lady knew iCat?

 

She hugged my cat out of the lift at her stop, so I followed. She asked me a few simple questions like how I found her and the likes so I promptly answered. After which she began telling me a story without asking if I was interested to hear.

 

Her late brother used to keep this cat (iCat I assume) when he was alive. Her name was ‘Aihleen’. She was away when her brother was admitted to the hospital. During that few weeks’ time the family was too busy to bother about her hence she had no home to return to. When he finally passed away a wake was held below the block. Aihleen didn’t return. They could care less. The death of their loved one was already too much to handle.

 

During one night, a cat came to the coffin but they chased it away thinking it’s another stray. She recognised that feline as Aihleen but it’s too late. Perhaps it’s better this way since none in the family knew how to take care of a cat.

 

I was baffled by what she said about ‘recognising’ iCat. How could anyone know a cat with one glance? I threw her the question and she pointed me to iCat’s forehead. The coloured fur on her forehead made out a shape that looked like a cross. She told me Aihleen was the only tortoise shell she seen with something like that on her forehead.

 

She continued her story of coming back to look for Aihleen after the funeral with no luck.

 

    “She must be depressed,” I thought to myself.

 

Never did she expect to see her again today when coming back to settle paper issues of her brother’s apartment unit here. She gave iCat a few more strokes before returning her to me.

 

My heart was heavy when I went back home with iCat in my arms. I never knew iCat had such a sad past. I told myself that day I’m going to love this little fur ball no matter how annoying she could be at times.

 

Our relationship somehow got closer that day. No more ‘get your hands away from me you perv’ attitude anymore. Now she just climbs onto my lap expecting me to pet her. If I don’t, she’d bite me. Imagine how annoying that could be when you are in a middle of a game ---

 

Ally: ‘repair your units! Repair your structures!

 

Ally: The Ion canon is ready!

 

Ally: RETALIATE!’

 

Me: But my cat is stopping me!

 

Computer: ‘Enemy’s Nuclear Missile launched’.

 

Me: NOOOOOO!

 

Computer: You have been defeated.

 

Me: ARGH!

 

iCat: does not support any audio format but is a great furry companion to have.

 

 

©EOS Ling 2007