Kittu and I

Kittu thinks he deserves the best.

“Owners of dogs will have noticed that if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they will think you are god. Whereas owners of cats are compelled to realise that if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they draw the conclusion that they are gods.” I came across those words of Christopher Hitchens purely by coincidence and the very next thing I did was to search more about Hitchens. The titles of his books like God is not Great and The Portable Atheist found me logging on to Amazon India to search whether the books are available.

Someone who makes that profound observation about cats and dogs has a heart in addition to a brain and hence tends to be worth reading. I know enough about cats and dogs now to stake that claim. My brother’s dogs love me more than my own cat.

Kittu, my cat, was abandoned by someone at my doorstep when he was just old enough to walk on his own. He chose to walk into my heart with a grace and stealth which was so feminine that I assumed that it was a female cat. When a friend of mine heard me refer to the cat as ‘she’ he drew my attention to its nascent scrotum and said, “Better. Otherwise you’ll have too many cats too soon.”

 

The best is relative, of course.

My friend doesn’t like cats because he says they are heartless creatures. “When this fellow finds a better place he’ll desert you, however much you love him,” my friend warned me.

“Genuine love doesn’t seek reciprocation,” I consoled Maggie philosophically when Kittu began to play hide and seek with us soon after his scrotum bulged fully.

  

Even Maggie's kitchen can put him to sleep!

Both Maggie and I are away from home for about 8 hours every day and Kittu is left outside with ample food to eat and a lot of open space to wander about. He used to be there in a yogic sushupti on one of the chairs on my front veranda when Maggie and I returned from school in the evening. As soon as our car turned into the home driveway, he would get up, stretch himself like a yogi doing the Surya namaskar, and walk towards the car porch. He would accompany me, caressing himself against my leg as I walked, enter the room even before I did and utter an imperial meow that would send me grabbing at the packet of Whiskas, his exclusive food.  He would share my tea a little later or wait for Maggie to prepare milk for him.

Soon he would be in the garden envying the weeds that consumed all my attention. In short, he was there where I was or Maggie was. That’s not the case nowadays, however. My friend turned out to be right. Kittu goes missing every now and then especially in the evenings.

The other day Maggie scrambled an egg when she was in a mood to pamper Kittu. He loves eggs scrambled without any ingredients, not even the common salt. When he ate half of the thing, he heard some sound from a distance. He stopped eating and started running. Maggie called him back but he did not care two hoots for her.

Later I learnt that the sound was of a female cat. Rather I learnt that there was a female cat in the neighbourhood.

 

That's his favourite place outside home.

“Didn’t Jesus say that when a person grows up into adulthood he or she will leave her parents and live with his or her partner? Kittu has grown up.”

Kittu has nearly converted our house into a langar where he drops in whenever he is hungry. His Whiskas, fish, milk, eggs, etc wait for him as always. Kittu has taught me that genuine love need not always be reciprocated. Especially when a god – I mean, cat –  is concerned!

PS. I notice that all the pics I've posted are of Kittu sleeping. But never mistake, dear reader, he's awake most of the time. He doesn't pose for me, however.