Grumpy Cat
Originally uploaded by Fith Fathing Magic.
This is my cat, Oya. Well… not exactly. She’s my ex-flat mate’s cat, but I considered her as my own. I haven’t seen her for over a year. I miss her.
Oya just turned 5. Her owner calls her an “enana,” a dwarf, because she is smaller than most cats. She was the runt of the litter, but she was the most beguiling of the bunch. While the rest of her brothers and sisters were purring and brushed themselves against the legs of their potential owners, this little one just sat in the middle of the room and pointedly ignored the humans who were cooing and ahhing around them. She looked absolutely bored and would stare down the other kittens that pranced around, running after dust balls. She won the heart of E, my ex-flat mate. She took her home and named her after a tiny city in Galicia.
She was hiding when I went to the apartment to check out the room I was thinking of renting. I had no idea E kept a pet in the house. The apartment was spacious, newly renovated, but the room was a closet. I had my doubts about living there until I saw the cat litter tucked behind the potted plants in the veranda. I asked E about it and she confessed that she indeed had a cat but it was anti-social and stayed away from people, even her sister who was a regular fixture at the flat. She assured me that it would stay out of my way so she hoped that that wouldn’t be a problem with me. I immediately agreed to get the room. I’ve always wanted to own a cat, anti-social or not. I grew up in a house full of dogs—up to 8 at some point—so I never got a chance to see if I could get along with a feline pet. I left and returned after an hour with the deposit. That’s when I saw Oya for the first time as she popped her head from behind the enormous plant in the living room. A glimpse of that tiny face and I knew that I had made the right decision.
She stayed away from me the first couple of days. I was noisily transferring and rearranging my stuff as I tried to settle in my new space. I caught her once, though, sniffing at my bags, and then she ran away when she realized that I was looking. She finally graced me with her presence after a week of playing hide and seek. I was reading a book, perched on one end of the sofa, when she silently entered the living room and parked herself on a large pillow on the floor. I tried not to get too excited and stopped myself from calling out to her. I coolly looked at her direction and continued to read. She looked back at me as if to acknowledge my greeting then proceeded to groom herself. I was thrilled.
Our silent routine continued for the rest of the week, but on each succeeding night she would sit closer and closer to me. First, she stretched herself on the floor beside the pillow, then the following day, she curled up beside my shoes, then the other side of the sofa, then the middle, and, finally, beside me. We would sit side by side for days until she finally let me scratch her back. I had made a new friend.
My ex-flat mate was surprised and impressed by our growing friendship. She encouraged it by letting me feed Oya; on Mondays I gave her her weekly treat. I would scream “Lata!” (Tin) and she would appear. She ate the dry stuff but absolutely loved her pâté-like meal.
She remained loyal to E but ignored our other flat mate. He chased after her the minute he moved into the house, but she never warmed up to him. He gave up. We, on the other hand, became fast friends, constant companions through thick and thin. She was there when I broke down when I received a call from home and found out that an old friend had passed away. I rushed into my room and she followed. She curled up beside me and stayed there through the night. She found solace in my room when we would hold parties at the apartment. She also remained there when E left for a month to visit her family.
Although we never talked or exchanged stories about ourselves, we formed a bond that I will forever cherish. I feel sometimes that I made better friends with her than the other people I met during that time. I miss those lazy mornings when we would sit on the floor of the balcony, me with my mug of hot java and ciggies and Oya pawing at the geraniums. We would sit there for a long time watching the busy bustle of the city below. On cold winter days, we would compete over the sliver of sunlight that would filter through the window or the perfect space in front of the heater.
Some people say it’s silly to regard animals as our friends. We “humanize” pets, give them personalities and treat them as if they were Homo sapiens when they are smaller-brained animals, beings in the lower rungs of the food chain who cannot possibly think and feel like us let alone understand us. But who cares? I don’t have to be Dr. Doolittle to consider her as my friend. The only downside I see about this friendship is that I will not be able to talk to her on the phone or exchange text messages and emails with her. But most humans don’t even bother to do that… So?
Silly or not, I miss her. Here’s to you, Oya. Shine bright, my little one.
