Nobody sees her. She was one with the night; creeping under the closed stalls, going round mud and fermented garbage, probably snickering at the smell.
For many, many centuries, her ancestors have been a blessing to man. People have small brains; they forget and they ignore, and all the blessings that her ancestors have freely shared had gone to the oblivion of selfishness and self-claimed superiority. Like several generations before her that fell off the grace; nowadays and – for many – for the rest of their lives, she was seeking a blessing for herself.
She thought the shadow behind her was her tail, though probably she was uneasy that her shadow grew bigger and bigger, eventually swallowing her in thicker black, darker surrounding.
She stopped, and looked up. Where was the moon that her Deity mother promised her before she was born?
But a little grin she found, carved on the face that was looking at her, a woman.
Which woman? The one who will deal small packets with rice and fish, or the other kind who will deal a blow on her already tiny waist?
The woman squatted; extending a long, white stick with most alluring fragrance. Her hunger knew that fragrance too well, but her instinct knew the risk even more.
Yet the next second she found herself on the drier part of the roadside; chewing, tearing, huffing. A little struggle, really. Little struggle compared to days of starvation behind her, and nights of gameless hunting in front of her, if she lost that chance of the present.
That’s why it’s part regret, part fear, when she let her guard down for a little bit, and the woman lifted her high in the air. She had not noticed that she is so tall.
She must have thought the few minutes that felt like forever was a pathway to her demise. She darted off the darkest corner she found first and stayed there, growling. To heck with starvation, though it really doesn’t matter because she probably will be dead soon anyway.
The next day as she snapped out of the dark side of slumber that caused her to sleep, despite all the warnings in her head, she found that fragrant white stick by her nose, this time, on a plate. She was not sure how that woman fit where she curled up, but she was not around, so she ate while her life lasts.
Eventually, she learns that as full as it can be, she is safer where she is now than on the street. Daunting at times, really. She has never seen so many other cats around before; but they are all look healthy, and they don’t really care to inquire her of her past, nor explain the present. The smaller cats came, once in a while, with their round eyes and fluffy fur. Sometimes they play with her tail, sometimes just look at her. When she falls asleep, on particular days she will wake up with several of them balling themselves in her surrounding.
At long last, she learns that when that woman and the other say “Megami”, it means her. They are being some real nuisance, with pills and injection, and she hates them for that. Funny thing, though, she no longer has smelly diarrhea, no longer has things wiggling inside her, no longer has pain in her ears, no longer has hunger not filled, or thirst unquenched.
Finally, maybe just a few days ago, she learns that Megami (=may-ga-me) means Goddess, after that little stripe of gold on her forehead.
So she always come to that name. The name that she thinks suit her, the name of her own right, by ancestry and by birth.
She always waits for that name to be called, for shortly after there will be many delicacies.
She always come to that name: the name that holds her dignity, and the dignity of her ancestors in a high place, as it should be.