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Cat

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I look forward to coming home every night because I know my cat patiently waits for me.

Upon turning the knob to open the door, I will always see her without fail doing something that seems very important, pretending she doesn’t see me. Sometimes I suspect that she purposely hides under the couch whenever she hears my footstep approaching so I will see only her face peeking from the bottom of the sofa, her face giving me the cutest face of nonchalance I know.

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I will put my heavy back pack on the couch and call her. “Mimi, Mimi!” “Come to me, Mimi.” I’m always exhausted after spending 13 hours or more out working, but I forget how very tired I am when I see her or hear her purr. She ignores me at first, makes me feel I am but a rogue, dark rock aimlessly floating in her vast galaxy of stars. As soon as I begin to feign doing other things, like taking off my shirt and pants to shower in order to remove all the grimes I collected on my way home, she surreptitiously brushes her cheeks against my leg and lightly engulfs a narrow patch of my skin within the fullness of her small but gaping mouth until I can feel her fangs exerting enough pressure to make me notice her.

Without warning, she’ll mercilessly bite me. But owing to the smallness of her milk teeth, Mimi is only able to successfully do nothing but tickle me with that attempt at recovering her wildness she and all the other domesticated cats have relinquished thousands of years ago in exchange for access to grain silos that housed those delicious and protein-rich mice that competed with man for agricultural surplus.

I will hold her two front limbs, carry her toward my face and declare with so much love in my voice the extent of her evilness. I wonder how it will be when Mimi becomes bigger, when those canines can already do enough damage, when she’s gone too big and strong to be able to stage a committed resistance against me whenever I drag her to the shower. I guess this is the same fear parents have while staring with love at the infant they hold in their hands.

She had her first visit to her vet last weekend and took her deworming meds and vitamins on the same day. This Friday Mimi will have her first antirabies shot. I’m still thinking whether she will be spayed or not. My life has changed since Mimi came.

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Good night and rest well, Mimi. Your cute antics keep me sane these days.

#vicepresidentialdebate

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Cayetano is going to be my vice president.

Still life: Mimi

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While the rest of the world is awhirling, my Mimi is napping quietly in the corner. I hope I can be as oblivious as she is to the world.

My Cats

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51G3WT6D1NLWhen I was 11 or I do not remember exactly, my family got a cat which we named Blinky after that fat cat in the Tagalized anime titled “Ang Batang Santa Claus” on GMA7. Our Blinky was a white cat with patches of brown, yellow, and gray hair. I knew then that I’m a cat person and had been smitten by cats since.

The cat came to our home one day from nowhere looking for food. She was a juvenile cat when we had her. Perhaps her mother abandoned her as she’s too big to be breastfed. Blinky was feral turned tame after my sibling and I offered her a home.

She stayed with us for three years or so and got pregnant several times until one day we found her in the kitchen lifeless. Cats don’t live long in my hometown. They live a life on the edge, but I think it’s a life worth living. If I were a cat I’d rather live a dangerous life in complete freedom than be a neutered city kitty waiting to be fed tuna every four hours.

Every cat that our family owned after Blinky was called after her, and we referred to their kittens as Blinky’s kittens. We never bothered inventing names for them. Eventually these cats left the house when our grandmother moved in. She did not like how our cats had gone too comfortable in the house. Soon after, her discomfort was replaced with detestation, and so she waged wars against all our cats. Some time after, the cats were all gone.

I never had a liking for dogs. I hate their smell, the stupid look in their face, and how they try hard all the time to get the approval of people around them. Dogs tend to be too dependent on their masters. They want to be constantly pet and cared. I begin to lose interest the moment something becomes too dependent on me.

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Cats are different. Lest you think this blog has become fully dedicated to cats, it has not. It’s just that I have gone very fascinated with my pet cat Mimi.

Cats are very clean animals. Yes, they look down upon people, but once you get their trust, they’ll remain loyal till their dying days, save for some days when they ignore you no matter how hard you try to make them play with you.

Mimi is a kitten of a street cat. She’s a well-behaved cat who makes sure her poop is covered right after she’s done doing her thing. She can be demanding sometimes especially when she’s hungry. Bathing her and clipping her claws are my biggest challenges to date. I bathe her once every three days and clip her nails once in two weeks. She has enough play time and I vow not to make her fat and contented. If one day she decides to live her catty cat life and explore the world, she will have my blessing.

For now, I am enjoying my role as her master, equal, or however you refer to our relationship.

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No je ne regrette rien

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After taking a quick shower, Mimi lies in front of the glass window to take his morning nap. He seems to enjoy listening to Edith Piaf.

Mimi at night

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