Tenderness

Kittu in the sit-out

Maggie and I feel sad when Kittu, our cat, is not at home to welcome us as we return home after the day's work. Most evenings he's there. He escorts us from the car to the door and enters ahead of us. It's his home. He belongs there. We like it that way.

What makes home really beautiful is someone waiting there for us. What makes any place beautiful is someone waiting there for us.

There was a little girl of UKG who waited for Maggie and me at the door of her classroom in the morning as we walked from the parking lot to the office. She would greet us with a smile and beam with joy as we patted her cheek. Occasionally she would beckon Maggie to bend so that she could plant kiss on Maggie's cheek. When the year ended and her classroom changed, she disappeared from our routine way. I wished she was still there. I'm sure Maggie did too.

Some people create a tender space for themselves in our hearts. Some disappear after that, they grow wings and fly away.

Sometimes I wish the relationships lasted longer. Last an eternity.

Even Kittu places conditions on our relationship. If there's no fish at home, he expresses displeasure by moving out and going to sleep on a chair in the sit-out.

I go and sit on the next chair and watch him watching me with his slightly open eyes. He then gets up, stretches himself, yawns, and steps onto my lap where he lies down making himself comfortable by burying his cold nose into the crook of my arm. I feel the rumble of hunger in his belly. His hunger becomes my pain.

I start the scooter and Kittu is all alert. When I return, he rushes towards me because he knows I went to bring him his favourite food.