I have lost one of my best friend today, and her passing left me blank for a couple of hours, though the moment of loss happened only for a few minutes.
Such is her impact in my life.
Her name is Dr. Who; after a TV show in Europe that I never see. But people and especially young women and moms’ club are fawning over him, or the show, whichever comes first, so I read about it and kind of figured out what the show is about.
Such is how I come to remember that name when I meet her: in a phone booth; it’s just that I found her among the rubble of an abandoned phone booth. Playing. Alone.
It was just beginning to rain and I want to board the next transport home so I won’t be late for the mobsters, but I can’t help it when I saw two pairs of white, furry, tiny legs tiptoed criss cross among the pile of stone and steel.
For some reason, I tiptoed closer myself (I can be ridiculously silly at times) – though she couldn’t have seen me even if I walk or run toward her place anyway – then squatted at the side, peeked, and meet her straight in the eye.
“Mew”, she said, inquisitive, but daring. “Meeew”
I stretched out my hand and she put one of her front paw on it. “Hello, little baby, would you like to come home with me?”
She came forward; such is our first meeting.
Looking back at the moment now, it seems like she is using a weapon called “guilt trip” to make me pick her up; or rather, I use it on myself. She is just two months old, probably. The age of Torbie, and Sunny II, and Little Tortie (abbreviated Leeto, out of respect to the older one), and Neo (after Matrix Reloaded. All black, jumps from top to top and crashes onto things). Except that they were born in the safety of my house. With clean bed, safe and warm room for their own, and their mom, plenty of food, enough water, cleaning service and customer care round the clock.
Such is my reasoning; but she was already in my bag when my mind start working and I don’t want to leave her alone even if if I can.
During our two and a half hour commute she already make herself at home. She meows for food from inside the bag, and I can’t help it but slightly tear a pouch of Whiskas and have her suck all the water from the piece of food that poked out of the pouch. I looked at the marking.
Ocean fish. After this my whole back pack will smell like a fish, but such is the risk if you are an animal rescuer who caught teeny orphan kitten on the road without livelihood on site.
When all the water was finally sucked out of the food, I felt like something is gnawing my thumb. It was her, trying to lick away any excess water from the food, and after that, start munching on the solids.
Such is how she puncture a hole in my heart and fill it in with abundant explosion of giddy-ish cutesy tootsy, itsy bitsy, teeny weenie yellow tabby kitty.
People come and go aboard the car along the way. Most are ignorant, a family had difference opinion (son: I want to keep a cat. Look, how cute. Sister: but you will get bored and I will do the job. Mom: No, they stink like garbage).
I lift my head and turn around, because my neck started to go stiff, and the mom squirm away thinking that I am offended by her blatant remarks. When our eye meet, she smiled, rather sheepishly, but without remorse.
Heck; go to hell.
Another passenger secretly took photo when she poked her head out of my bag and scan around with her super cute, binocular eyes. I can read lips. Hers said “So cute”, in English.
This time, I have to struggle not to smile too pompously.
Such is how she brought good tiding into my household.
She did not need quarantine. She rammed into the flock of Torbie and her siblings and take over their snack. She took over their toy, she acted like she belongs with them.
And they don’t mind.
With Sunny II on top of my sleeping pillow. Won’t cure my insomnia.
With Torbie’s bone.
And leave Torbie alone.
Earth to Control, earth to control, do you copy?
And then she send a one (megabyte) report from earth to control, wherever that is.
Such is her way of blending in.
Well, if I may admit, I’d probably joined the fawning young women and the moms’ club; but I’d be fawning over her instead of an unreal hero. She is a million times better. She is witty, like the hero, she has her brain set in the right place, like the hero, she has the penchant of fixing things in her own way, like the hero, and she filled in my otherwise bland days (wake up, scoop the boxes, clean the house, feed the cat, scoop the boxes…) with colors of her wind.
Such is how she taught me not to take life too seriously. Eat, play, love, sleep, purr.
And catch her mid air if she attempted to jump from the top of the door, to the swimming pool of water bowl down under.
She is not afraid to ask, definitely not afraid to jump forward, and play hard.
Such is how she strike instant camaraderie with Torbie. Torbie has different chipset. Her sibling is Intel dual core; Torbie is Quad Core with 9900mAh lithium battery that can stand by without charging for eighteen hours; more if you feed her right. Dr. Who is apparently carry the same type of power bank.
Look at the video: BEFORE Torbie and felt
Heard the meow? That’s Dr Who.
And here is AFTER: Torbie vs. Dr. Who
They are never sick, they are always happy, they always keep me on my toes, even in my sleep. They are ever helpful by making sure I wake up to a tidily crumpled blanket (mine) on the corner.
Sealed with a piss.
They eat anything. They are always hungry. They broke everything. They squashed everyone who stands on their way as they roll everywhere around the house wrestling.
Maybe they have nuclear power inside them instead of the usual Lithium Ion.
But such is how I slipped into complacency, and then negligence over their health.
The punishment for being a moronic cat mom is a bad monsoon. Extreme weather, extreme temperature, extreme trial on even the toughest immune system in town.
But even when they are both sick they still destroy the last three of my cups (the only one left is plastic) My pan and pot is not round anymore because they kill them too many times by pushing them off the counter, like Pirates of The Carribean.
Such is how my neighbor asked me if I am OK one day, if I am mad or everything, or if I have boyfriend, because they never heard me throwing pans and pots so many times before.
“Oh, that must be Dr. Who”, I replied, dismissively, and walk inside,
I can care less they knit their eyebrow thinking who the heck is Dr. Ho (not typo).
So, such is monsoon. Cats got sick. I got sick, but after a few days, all of them bounced back, and so is Dr. Who. She got cold again a few days later,when the weather got so cold, we can see our own breath; but no matter how bad it is, she always bounced back.
In the past few days, she got sick again, and this time it’s worse than any other time. She got dehydrated, she lost weight, she can’t smell her food because of all those crusts blocking her nose, but she rallies back. She got over her sneezing, she eats again, she swallow everything just fine, she is happy to take her medicine. She follows me everywhere for extra food (she always get it!) She rallies to the point of near recovery.
And as such, I was about to start breathing again.
But this morning she takes turn to the worse. All of a sudden, she lost energy, she coughed, she vomits. Trying to protect her against further dehydration, I gave her subcutaneous fluid, and she bounced back, but rolled back down a few hours later. She wanted to eat, and I gladly help her with syringe, which she swallowed. She bounced back, but rolled down again few hours later. Her vital sign deteriorate rapidly.
“What happened?” I ask her, desperate, “You are still playing soccer with the spoon yesterday night!”
Torbie was bereft the whole day. She sits by her partner in crime rather impatiently, if I can perceive those looks in her eyes, but this time, Dr. Who won’t wake up.
Such is how I knew the time is near.
I still don’t understand. I am still half mad she give me the burst of business at the time when I was occupied with my sneezes and coughs.
But I stopped Torbie from pawing her and sent her to the backyard, where she played with soap foam from the washing machine, though I think she swatted those foam in a sulking spirit.
Immediately Dr. Who flipped and sit on her tummy, meowing weakly.
Maybe she doesn’t want Torbie to see.
I looked at her eyes; round like usual, though no longer bright. “Are you sure? Well then, don’t blame me if I cry but if you gotta go, you gotta go”
She tried to crawl. I sat on the floor, pick her up and lay her down on my lap.
She start purring.
And slowly drifted away.
Sunny II came over, at one point, and jumped on my lap, pawing her, and when she didn’t respond, bite her shoulder, asking in kind to play.
I stroke the loose hay. His long hair seems to always standing to every direction, no matter how much I comb it tidy. He looked at me. I shake my head.
A small dollop of water fell down my face. Oops.
“Go play with Neo, or chase Soot Ball. Do you want to go out? There’s sun”
Sunny II jumped down and go away, but not before turning back one more time and bite her shoulder again. Perhaps to make a statement that he doesn’t approve of her journey.
Such is how much they love her.
It was past afternoon when she finally crossed over in her sleep. Just one, single cough; and then she was in peace.
Meanwhile I still can’t figure out why. Even hundreds after hundreds of crossing cats over I still can’t figure out why.
Maybe because God loves them so much, He doesn’t want them to suffer too long, albeit at my expense.
Maybe because God needs some entertainment that he no longer get from human, who themselves busy making war after war.
Maybe He just want some of His sense of humor back so He won’t lose His temper and make Armageddon comes tomorrow, and Dr. Who has a lot of sense of humor.
Maybe, as simple as the TV show, her mission accomplished, and it’s time to jump to another time, another day, another task.