Oh, new entry! It’s been like 2 months (?) since my previous entry, and I have to attribute this disgraceful negligence to writer’s block, busying myself with school project, and just plain, unapologetic laziness.
I have a cat. Technically speaking, she’s not MY cat, but one often finds her sleeping (What else do cats do? Duh!) at the void deck of my block. Hence, MY cat. Now if you ask me whether I’m a dog or a cat person (trust me, 99% you’re either or), I would say definitely the former. Hence, just as my gaze always follows a butterfly that flies past (see, dog!), cats fascinate me. They irritate the hell out of me, but they fascinate me. In case you’re wondering, they irritate the hell out of me by doing precisely nothing. They do nothing and look clean and well-fed (I’m not denying that there are scrawny, hungry-looking cats around…), whereas dogs, being dogs, manage to get themselves look scruffy and messy even when doing nothing (cue dog who paws air in excitement in sleep…chasing rabbits in its dreams!)
What can I say? It’s a love-hate relationship. I grew to look out for her when I leave for work in the morning. She’s on my mind as I alight the bus when I come home in the evening. When I walk past her, my eyes go >>, while hers inevitably follow my cue to go…well, that look she gives me by staring out of the corners of her eyes.
And yet…when I saw her lying totally and unnaturally motionless in the middle of the path one day, my heart stopped. Maybe lifelong rivals do that to you. She was just sleeping though (Hmph! Liar, liar!)…and I was relieved to know that.
Today, I saw two children with her. They were not bullying her, I think, but just immensely interested in the way children are, and getting too close for her comfort. She ran away from them for a distance, and turned to look back at them to check whether they followed her (they did, of course!). My face turned ‘black’ when I saw that, and I wanted to pick the two children up by the scruff of their necks and fling them away. Hahaha…animals fare better with me than children, I think.
But it was a deeper sadness that ran beyond the anger when I gazed upon her retreating back.
The weak, the ignorant, the innocent…the arrogant, the merciless, the lost…when will we walk free? When will we stride forward as one big brotherhood (and believe me, we will finally move forward when the true meaning of brotherhood is realised)? Right now, everything is moving backwards under the guise of advancement. If a Bigger Plan exists, then perhaps this is a cycle that must be fulfilled.
And that’s why she’s not MY Mao Mao, as mentioned in the title and above paragraphs. She is free, and she is beautiful. She will age, and she will die. And that is something we must all bear, something that will affect all of us, and something that is perhaps in accordance with the Plan.