Miao Cat Café

Imagine going to a place where you can sit next to a coffee table, occupied by a fur ball taking a late afternoon nap. He cannot be disturbed. His feline companions, meanwhile, scurry under the chairs, hoping not to get noticed. Then pick a spot where you can have a sip of your strawberry smoothie, while doing some office work, when, a sudden appearance of an Exotic Shorthair gets your attention. It wasn't her intention to distract you, really, but her cuteness demands you abandon your laptop, as you are now spellbound to stroke her fine fur, until she walks away to charm another guest.  

It can only happen in one place in the metropolis, where cats and baristas conspire to make guests feel cozy with good food and awesome company, at Miao Cat Café in Quezon City.  

The idea behind the coffee shop isn't really a novelty as there are hundred of kitchenettes in the country that employ cats as pest control and leftover eaters. There's an eatery behind my workplace, where an elder cat serves as comic relief for hungry patrons. I also knew, thanks to the power of the Internet, that such cat cafés exist around the world. Japan has dozens of them, and so is Korea.

What makes Miao different is the pioneers behind it. Not one cat lover had the entrepreneurial spirit to set up shop for a niche market for feline worshipers before. And it shows, with several TV programs doing a feature about the place, and fully-booked days with eager guests waiting for weeks just to have a slot to socialize with Scottish Folds, Puspins (Pusang Pinoy) and Long-Haired kitties. 

Miao isn't really your ordinary café, where guests simply drop by, order something to eat, and pet the animals to their hearts' content. One must keep in mind that those cats are prone to human-borne viruses. Therefore, around 15 guests are let in, including random walk-ins like me, to have a 2-hour communion with the pussies. There is a P300 pesos admission fee, which includes a choice of sweet treats, pastas, and ice cold drinks, as well as slippers, that you have to return after you exit the room. Picking up the cats and carrying them around is forbidden, so is the strong urge to squeeze and poke them, especially when they look at you with their droopy eyes.  

One-hour breaks are enforced, and guests have to leave as well, for the attendants need to clean and sanitize the place. It is also the time for the cats to rest before another batch of visitors make their way in and become the kitties' object of fancy. I am sure the resident mimings know the drill: "Pretend not to be interested no matter how the poor humans try and try to get our sympathy." 

"No doubt, they will return and try to pet us again. And when they fail, they will come once more, and this time do our bidding."

Being a cat person, however, makes me feel a little uncomfortable at what the animals have to go through. While I find immense joy being surrounded by felines, the unwanted attention bought by their unexpected fame somehow diminishes the snug atmosphere, the owners of the café might have envisioned at the beginning. There is no doubt, the enterprise is booming, and in the months to come, someone will set up another coffee shop with the same idea of letting these four-legged creatures roam freely to draw guests. 

By then, I'd return to Miao Cat Café, and lay down my life's burdens at the same spot at the Al Fresco where I first fell in love with the place:

--

In my head, I see myself in front of the laptop, writing essays like this, as the same cats strut by pretending not to care still, even when I reach my hand to touch their fur. Behind the glass window, and occupying one of the indoor wooden tables is an elderly woman, spending the last years of her life petting animals that help overcome her diminished health. They say it's for therapy. There are few loyal patrons as well, reading novels, talking to fellow cat people who have suspended their urge to hide behind their impenetrable walls, reaching out and conceiving artistry, without really violating personal spaces. With the litter box, finally hidden from view, the strong smell at the Al Fresco no longer bothers the olfactory senses. A garden full of herbs now shroud the row of houses at the back of the coffee shop. Well tended with hands that grow greens, they sometimes use the leaves to flavor the homemade pastas and sandwiches. With the fancy and curiosity now over, guests can stay beyond the 2 hour limit. Hygiene remains the first rule upon entering, but with true cat seekers forming the bulk of the patrons, the rules have been relaxed, so is the atmosphere, that has become more inviting.  

As I sip the strawberry smoothie, which still is my favorite drink, the same Exotic Shorthair, jumps on the nearby table to make her presence felt. It is the same clumsy cat I helped get out of the cage she tried exploring the first time I set foot at Miao Cat Café. In that brief moment of connection, where once more I get to stroke her fur, a familiar feeling emerges: something light, and almost fuzzy. 

There and then, I realize, this place has now become home.

The Cat With No Name

Previously on: The Infestation

She was dropped, rather unceremoniously, in front of me one morning and rather than cower under the table, the cat approached my stretched hands to rub her head against my knuckles.

It was our first encounter.

She was dispatched from our ancestral house to counter the growing rat population at home. Droppings were everywhere and even the food on the table wasn't spared when nobody's looking. My sister already sounded the alarm. She was even willing to hire the services of a specialist to see the pests demise from our sight. Only after these creatures appeared in my room, squeaking, and gnawing on wood did I act with urgency. The fly paper counter assault did little to stop their advance. Not even the peanut butter coated bait drew them into the sticky trap.

It must be the feline's brutal attacks that finally drove the critters away. Overnight, the mice no longer dash behind the furniture. The bins were even left open, certain that nothing will jump out when we put spoiled food items in. Except for the stink that wafted from the toilet when the cat decides to take a dump, the guest didn't pose much of a problem. She even eats the leftover dog food once the house companion had her fill. It was, the most convenient of arrangements.

I thought we could keep her for good. But the house is shared with residents who might pose a threat to the cat. While my sister doesn't want her because of the poop, it is the children that worries us more. It didn't help that the nephew who has asthma was her tormentor. I was told he was caught pulling the cat's tail when the nanny wasn't looking. Also, the frequent snarling, when the cat walks close just as the dog is eating might happen when the tykes are nearby.

There are many ways to get scratched by a cat's claw. It is just a matter of timing.

The animal was never given a name for reasons of impermanence. It was a temporal arrangement whose end was to remove the mice from the house. Nothing more. Resigned to this reality, the cat was given courtesies the dog never enjoyed. She was carried around like an infant, hugged, like a ragdoll, gets to check the rooms without being shooed. She even gets to climb my bed and sleep beside the pillows. 

She was more of a house pet to me. And maybe, I was more to her than a reluctant host.

In her days of stay, and nights of mouse hunting, the cat afforded an aspiration, a wishful thinking should a time come when I would have to live my days in hermitage:

Mugen, in his advanced age gets up from the bed to start his daily rituals. Lumbering with a cane towards the terrace, to tend to his basil and lavender plants he has nurtured from days past, a short-haired, tri-colored cat much like the one he lets into his room many, many years ago trailed behind. With her tail stiff and pointing at the ceiling, she rubs her body against any hard surface when she catches up. The inseparable companions lived their days, like life finally completes its cycle.

For the old man, I think of at this moment, he asks nothing more.

Because Tomorrow Is Just A Memory

"These plants belong to me. Take me with them if you must!!"

"Are good things supposed to end?" 

I mused before dropping my stuff on the sidewalk. It's late in the afternoon and there's an everything-must-go sale nearby. An entire ecosystem will be shut down all in the name of progress. House plants of all shapes and sizes; delectable flowers in full bloom and bursting with colors are sold at drop down prices. I came to say goodbye to the place, and partake at discounts never would the shop owners give had the closing event didn't take place.

A few minutes before embarking on a home-bound trip, a cat sleeping under the shade was stirred out of curiosity. I was about to take pictures of the little fellow when she approached me and rubbed her head against the back of my hand. Not satisfied with the minimal attention I've given, she grazed her entire body around my leg, prompting me to stroke her fur to show appreciation. She then laid next to the plastic bags of garden implements I bought. An onlooker chuckled at the comic relief.

"Mukhang gusto sumama sa iyo ah." I gave a faint smile.

"Pusa niyo po ito?" The old man nodded.

For some reasons, I saw everything differently.

In the face of uncertainty and sea change, is it normal for creatures to cling to vestiges of familiarity? Knowing home will be gone soon, did the feline try to tell us she belongs to that garden, and that, she is aware it is being dismantled?

Shelter Me From The Storm

Pinagkait man ng tahanang matutuluyan,
sa piling ng mga rehas na bakal
at malalamig na tubo ng Maynilad,
doon ay natagpuan ang
pansamantalang taguan sa
marahas at mapagtaboy na lansangan.

Suspension of Disbelief

There is thrill in taking chances, whether it be in gambling with one's fortune, or at least with one's dream. This is the reason why a majority of people line up for the jackpot lottery. This is the reason we enjoy joining contests where one could win big prizes.

This same collective pursuit has become my primary aversion. I cannot recall the last time I drew numbers for my lottery ticket, or even tore stubs to join a charity raffle draw. There were hopeful moments I would, like when Del Monte Fit N' Right announced they would give-away Ipads, or when a family member shoves a ticket urging me to write my personal details.  But most of the time, I see contests as a ruse.

The optimist in me used to believe that the chances of winning a raffle draw, or a contest is big. I poured my heart into every competition hoping my coupon/piece of work/entry would be picked. Sadly, I never won a prize before - ever. There were vague memories of placing my bets in a peryahan, but that was two decades ago. Misfortune seem to have attached itself that never was my name called for Christmas give-aways. A decade into my career life and I still have to claim my prize.

I would have stood my ground and continue to disassociate myself with prizes and raffles. But the reality that some material aspirations could only be acquired through fortuitous means has grown in me that I began to take chances by way of stoking one's luck.

Though the jackpot seems so far-away, lately I'm learning. What's there to lose when its the contests barging at your door.

These past several days, Nuffnang ran an ad on Souljacker. Nescafe Decaf invites everyone to design their own avatar in its Night Studio contest. Winning entries could win an Ipad, an Iphone 4 or even a Macbook Air. The prizes were too tempting to ignore. Given that Baabaa has somehow swayed me to the geek side, a part of me desires to own one of these prizes.

So I designed my Night Studio only to learn that the entries get voted. It seems I've joined a popularity contest and I have no match against those whose facebook friends number around a thousand. It did damp my spirit for some time until I remembered my own mantra about joining contests.

"What's there to lose when its the contests barging at your door?"

And so I suspended my own disbelief and turned my entry into a twisted reflection of what these contests are all about. The entries out there will surely refract the contestants' ordinary dreary life, but I wonder, really, how often does a judge gets to see an abnormally overgrown cat becoming the subject of one's entry. 

My overgrown cat, Bentong needs Nescafe too!

I stand to lose this contest only because I chose not to promote my entry. But I am pleased to learn that my creativity, when triggered, knows no bounds or masters.

Perhaps in another way, I will get that Macbook Air I wanted.

Pussy Talk

The cat we keep has grown more dependent on me for food that it always comes out of her hiding place (and abandon her kittens until securing her kibbles) the moment she hears my voice. The puss in fact, has grown weary of other people at home that she never lets anyone touch her, stroke her fur or carry her around except if it was me. Even my mom doesn't have such privilege. Their last close encounter resulted in my mother hitting the pregnant cat with the first object she got hold of. The cat, according to her sprang from the window and jumped on her back. Caught by surprise, (for she was not just watching Agua Bendita on Kapamilya Network at that time, she was absorbing every dialogue spoken by the bida) the heavy thump made her scream while the cat (equally surprised, yet maintained a sense of grace) walked away as if her paws merely stepped on an inanimate object.

But it wasn't the case a year ago.

Desperate for food, the same cat would meow at anyone willing to throw her morsels of meat from the table. She was close to learning the art of sneaking around the sink when I realized our inhumane treatment of our house companions. Since getting her steady supply of dry cat food, the cat has become more secure of her place at home and instead, devoted her time annoying her master with her incessant meows, head rubbing and occasional harmless biting.

Johnny Cursive, in one of our drinking bouts said that it is the cat who owns its master and not the other way around. The idea he floated was not new to me. I first learned the feline's perception of humans while playing Sims2 before. In the simulation game, dogs, as pets, were portrayed more as the ever-loyal companion of its master. While cats on the other hand, maintain a certain degree of independence that it is often the human host who seeks attention from the snooty animal.

Following the example at home, our cat (which until now, has no identity because the maids call her "Muning" while my affectionate name for her is "Meowie") tries her best to maintain an image of self-reliance. But with the availability of food, which I source directly from Cartimar, the feline has no choice but to recognize her affiliation.

Driven by her need to survive, and motivated by my desire to care for the critters at home, our cat-human bond goes beyond her basic needs and in many solitary moments I find myself in, it is the cat who keeps me company when no one could.

Miss Meowie

Some helpful tips in understanding Cat Behavior:

• Cats can be extremely friendly companions. The strength of the cat-human bond usually depends on the human behavior: whether the human is always gentle and considerate, takes time for affection when the cat wants and knows when to stop when the cat grows tired of it, responds to the cat's needs and wants, and appreciates the cat. The formula for a successful relationship thus has much in common with human to human relationships.

• Some people regard cats as sneaky, shy, or aloof animals. Cats have an inherent distrust for predator species such as humans, and often seek to minimize any contact with people they do not perceive as trustworthy. Feline shyness and aggression around people with cat social skills is often a result of lack of socialization, abuse or neglect. Cats relate to humans differently than more social animals, enjoying some time on their own each day as well as time with humans.

In Communicating with Humans:

• Kneading with the paws on a person or, for example, a favorite blanket or sleeping spot shows contentedness. Young kittens knead their mother's nipples to stimulate the feeding reflex so that her milk flows. Cats may knead for a short or extended period of time; the extended period is sometimes interpreted by people as a sign of discomfort or restlessness, but it is more likely that the cat is happy. Most cats will demonstrate this for about ten minutes at the longest, although some have been known to knead and suckle on their favorite human's shirt or ear lobe over the course of an entire night. Researchers at Oxford University have demonstrated that cats derive immense pleasure from kneading, similar to the relaxing sensation for humans from snacking on favorite foods or being massaged.

• A pressing of the face or top of the head against a person's body (head rubbing, nuzzling), or rubbing in quick succession is a sign of affection. Cats may also blink slowly as an expression of affection or security. Many cats also use a question mark-shaped tail to show desire to greet someone they are fond of. They will also stretch to show they are content with their surroundings. Cats may also lick their owner or another person to show affection

Sources:

Berdugo

We lift a page in history to reveal how mean we used to be.

I was barely ten years old and already had this aversion to cats. They sneaked inside the house and ate leftovers on the sink. They threatened the chicks and ducklings I kept (and massacred wholesale, without realizing it) and their feces and urine putrefied our clothes left to dry in the backyard. This strong distaste for felines was reinforced by our neighbor's snooty cat, which showed strong derision whenever I stroked its fur. It ran away at the mere sight of me, and in return I plotted to hit it with a stick (or stone) when I catch it sleeping in the laundry area.

A kitten's nose turned red with fresh blood after hitting it continuously with a plastic hanger. The kitten was up for adaption and I asked the old lady if I could have one kitten and make it my pet (since I can't get the neighbor's cat to like me) The old lady who was desperate to make the litter disappear (short of throwing it away) gave all the kittens to me. When I got home and tried to feed them, they snarled and growled and hissed whenever my hand tried to get close. With my infinite impatience and lack of understanding of how cats behave in the presence of strangers, I grew tired of their insolence and began beating them to submission.

I returned the kittens to the old lady when my rage had subsided.

Pushing the neighbor's snooty cat over the ledge and into the kanal without being caught by the neighbor was my favorite game. I found extreme fondness in tossing stray kittens into the same muck to let it swim until the disgusted neighbor rescues them with his sharp eyes glaring at me. I once saw a door mouse, dipped into the same sludge by some good-for-nothing tambay and fed it to a feral cat. The deadly fodder was too much for the pussy's digestive tract that it rejected it by throwing up and the regurgitated remains of the mouse was left to rot right outside the steel gate of an abandoned house.

The list of crimes against kittykind (which include random hitting, slapping and kicking of a stray cat whenever I spot them on the road) would go on if not for a tabby in school who was introduced to me by an elderly nun. His name was Putot and while waiting for my Piano teacher to finish her class, I would stay at the nun's office to play with her cat. Putot was very friendly. He would let me stroke his fur even on the day we first met. He was an old cat. Unfortunately, I've heard nothing from him or his owner after my Piano lessons were abruptly terminated.

Several months later, a half-blind, tri-colored stray cat became a regular fixture at home. As to how he became endeared to us, I cannot recall. All I remember was the old saying about tri-colored cats being lucky house companions, and that one morning he was in the kitchen and waiting for my mom to drop some pieces of bread for him to eat.

Putot changed my attitude towards his kind. The stray, tri-colored cat was the beginning of my fondness towards the animal. He was our first feline pet - the new line of cats who would become residents of our old house after an aunt accidentally drop her kittens in a water container which led to their deaths.

The tri-colored tabby left without being given a name. I guess it was his nature to roam the neighborhood than to be stuck in a home with a master to please. In his absence, something has changed. A year before leaving grade school, a girl friend gave me a striped-orange kitten that was given to her by her teacher.

We gave him a name - Kulit - for being too stubborn while in transit from his mother, to the school where he would meet my friend and into our house where he was finally adopted.

His companionship and hardheadedness was something I never felt from the ducklings, quails and chicks that I raised. He was our pest controller, and at times even ate his bounty by my bedside. He would constantly demand our attention, and did drastic measures to get noticed. (such as spraying every corner of the house with his pee or napping on top of the TV and blocking the screen with his tail while everyone watches a news program)

He went missing though after a few years. Kulit slipped under the box on his way to a veterinarian. He was never found and we moved on with our live.

Yet as a parting gift, for all the days he stayed with us.

His sweet and warm nature had won me over. my aversion towards cats has finally disappeared.

Critters

Legend tells of Ravens being kept at the Tower of London. It is said that if the birds leave, the Kingdom and the Crown would crumble. And so ten Ravens are kept, housed and fed at the government's expense. They even have a personal attendant to make sure their needs are met. One cannot blame the English for extending such graciousness to the birds. Tradition holds sway over the heart of a nation never before conquered since its founding.

Same belief holds true in a house susceptible to strife among its members. For its companionship and comic relief, a house cat and a dog has been a mainstay at home.

The presence of these critters inside the house has been allowed since the no-pet policy was lifted more than a decade ago. The first dog - a direct descendant of the one we have at present - was a gift from my mom's personal manicurist. It was received by the driver after the manicurist's resident askal had given birth to several puppies. The female canine had brown coat. Its black nose was slightly short and it had pointed ears.

The first dog gave birth to several batches of puppies - all of them were handed over to aspiring owners wanting a pet of their own. Years went by and the first dog has grown old. We then realized the need to preserve her heritage. Our decision to keep one of her offspring the last time she got pregnant was very timely. For in less than a year after raising her puppy, the first dog passed away.

---

The story of cats kept inside the house was as fleeting as their stay in the family; for we have a habit of throwing them away once our patience runs out in tolerating their habits. Most cats we had were picked off from the streets. They were cleaned, fed and later adopted. I remember a time when I pulled a kitten from a trash bin just when a storm was about to pass above the city. That cat grew to become a vegetarian only to dump his shit around the house. As the cat tried to put our patience beyond its limit, we decided to throw him away. It would take a long time before I could convince my mother to adopt another cat from an ex-colleague who runs a pet store.

This new cat was a half-Persian breed. We were told to handle it delicately. The cat had an attitude and was spoiled by its previous owner. It took almost a year before she became accustomed to our presence. After she had given birth to its first kittens, the Persian half-breed learned to steal food from the table. She also began defecating inside the house. Soon, the decision became clear. The cat had to leave but her kitten was allowed to stay and take her place. It was our hope that she would undo the mistake of her mother and change our perception of the bratty felines.






The resident dog and the kitten have learned to live in harmony. Its like no inter-species animosity was ever ingrained in their instincts. They rose above their stereotypes and taught us a great deal about co-existence. The neighbors were impressed that we're able to keep two rival animals under one roof. Except when competing for food, the dog doesn't mind the cat's business.

The presence of a dog and a cat has made our lives a little less stressful. The dog would sense the arrival of the family car and it would bark and jump and chase the vehicle until it stops right in front of the doorway. The dog knows the master of the house is aboard and would love to be the first to greet her arrival. Meanwhile, the cat sits nearby and lets the dog hoard the attention.

When the dog needs affection, it would wag its tail or press its nose against a body part. It learned to mimic what the cat does to get what she wants. Sometimes the dog would also use her paw to poke us or even jump at a person when she gets really excited. Her expressiveness runs in contrast to the ever secretive cat who would call our attention only when she's hungry. Nevertheless, it was the cat who meows all the time and would visit the rooms in search for a mouse to catch.

So far, she hasn't left her nauseating droppings inside the house.

---

In all the years we kept animal companions, it never crossed my mind to pay extra attention to their needs. We fed them whatever leftovers we had. We let them roam and explore as far as they want. Sometimes we would even let the dog drag the garbage in front of the house and just clean it when the maid decides so. I have never given the dog a bath or wipe the shit dumped by the cat.

It was always the helpers' job.

But these past few months, I noticed how the pets depended on us for food. When there were no meals to spare, they were forced to steal from the neighbors' table or search the trash for any morsel they could snatch. They have learned to beg especially when one is eating on the table. They would patiently wait, until a slab of meat or vegetable was intentionally dropped for the dog and the cat to fight over.

Such things made me think about ourselves and how we treat those bringing relief when life was too hard for us to bear.



So a decision was made. The pets deserve a break.

Burrowed beneath a high-rise building is the new Arranque Market. It is the place to go when buying pet breeds or exotic animals at very low prices. It is also the place where fowls and birds of many species were sold in cages too small; one would think their treatment as inhuman. Arranque was my destination. It was where I got the pellets that would become the staple of the pets' new diet.

Despite being short on cash, I was able to buy dog and cat feeds for 200 Pesos. The lady who runs the store said the feeds could last a month. Arriving home, the first thing I did was to introduce the new diet to the critters. They were well received with the dog frantically begging for more.

The pellets diet is just one of the steps I am planning to introduce to improve the well-being of our pets. The kitten that was up for adoption hasn't been delivered yet to BackintheCloset, but I will find time. In a sense, this move to address the pets' needs is just but a small step towards greater involvement in the affairs of the home.

I arrived home late one morning after coming from a party. The dog was waiting at the driveway and was eager to get inside the house. Unlocking the door, I found the cat licking her coat near the staircase. She merely uttered "meow" before following me to the kitchen. With my head swirling and my stomach threatening to throw out its contents, I was regretful for letting myself get intoxicated. Turning on the stove to heat some water, I planned to take a bath to get the alcohol off my head. Minutes passed as I lied down the sofa and waited for the water to boil. No human presence has ever greeted me since my arrival as I avoided getting caught going home drunk. Everything was peaceful, and despite in a state between being sober and getting more wasted, I remember picking up the cat and placing her on my stomach, while the dog watches patiently not far from the sofa. Both animals stayed until I could finally find the strength to get up and move on.