Ode To The Pussy Cat

I was crossing the boulevard during the eve of the supposed superstorm. The skies above had a blazing orange color and the freezing wind brings with it the fresh talahib scent of the provinces affected by the delubyo. As I passed through the strip of pedestrian space between the boulevard, I noticed a tiny dirty white kitten trying to jump from the island. The furball seems to have been abandoned for days. It's whispered meows grows weaker and weaker against the wind that blows in front of it. Despite its weakness, it persistently tries to call my attention. It is as if I'm the only person who could save him from imminent death once the storm passes on top of him.

His attempts to reach out and call my attention did not go in vain. Instead of crossing to the other side of the island, I paused for several minutes in order to decide whether I would take the kitten or leave it alone. You see, my conscience keeps me from leaving the kitten on the island. At the same time, I'm worried that taking the furball at home would create new problems particularly with regards to its repugnant poo-poo and its tendency to steal food from the table.

But as I looked at the poor kitten who still persists on jumping from the island in order to come to me, I eventually decided to take home the kitten. After all, we could abandon it again once the storm passed away.

So I took the kitten and carried it home using my thumb and my index finger as a balance. The pedicab drivers that were waiting for passengers at the bukana of our street saw the kitten on my left hand. Judging the silly looks on their faces, I guess they were wondering why would a tall guy like me waste my time snatching a dirty furball from somewhere and taking it home as if I found a new lovely pet I could keep.

But I just brushed off the reaction on their faces. All I thought at that time was that I am sparing a creature's life - even if it's just for days, and that such deed would be good for my karma. Those were the things that mattered to me.

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When I got home, I immediately asked the helper to look for a box where I could keep the kitten. Fortunately, there were a couple of small boxes near us that was used to package a tall mug.

I chose the biggest one.

And although the box was still relatively small for the kitten, the hole on the side of the box that used to expose the printed design of the mug, gives it a cozy feel.

It's like having a big open window in your bedroom.

I even put a piece of cloth inside the box to make it warm for its occupant.

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The kitten seems to be extremely hungry based on how he buried his face on the puddle of milk that I gave him. Cold and weary, the kitten then went immediately inside the box to curl up after having a hearty meal.

When my mom found out the kitten, she immediately told me to avoid having prolonged exposure with the furball. Although she understood the reasons behind my adoption decisions, her concern lies on the germs and possible diseases that the kitten might be carrying.

That is why we could not keep it as a pet. Besides, we are not even sure if we could take responsibility for the kitten when he grows up.

But whenever I looked at him peacefully curled up inside his christmas carton box, which he already considers his "little home" I could not help but wonder how it feels like for that kitten to find himself in a warm cozy place with food and human care available to him after enduring several grueling days of hardship on the streets.

Perhaps, he had already found himself a place he could call heaven. And I think it's more cruel to simply take away that piece of heaven he had found by abandoning him again in the streets where we discovered him.

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Two days after the storm had passed away, the helpers decided to give the kitten a warm bath. They were overly amused and touched whenever the kitten mistakes the puppies as his long lost mother. The kitten apparently tries to breastfeed from the puppies' non-existent mammary glands despite the playful attempts of the puppies to brush off the kitten.

My mother had apparently changed her position about the kitten as well. If she was unconcerned during the evening I brought the furball home - even saying that we should just leave it at someone else's doorstep after the storm has left, now sympathizes with the kitten's maternal confusion.

Our human conscience would not let us display such harshness to the animal especially now that his small cup of milk beside his little carton box has become a regular fixture at the dining room.

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This afternoon, I had my decision. Naming him Pistulio whose name I've got from Invader Zim's massive zits, he would become the feline sidekick of our retainer puppy Coffee.

The kitten I discovered on the boulevard island found his place in our house and in our hearts, which has been longing for a feline companion ever since our last cat passed away.