Katie was a beauty, with tawny and black stripes on her body, her belly a snow white, her fur soft to the touch. She licked herself everyday to keep her fur clean of dirt. Her bright green eyes piercing steadily at us, radiating an aura of adherence, territorial and aggressiveness. She was gentle in her ways and steadfast in her principles
Katie was adopted into our family when the mice wanted to rule our household creating an uncontrollable chaos. Cat food was not available to us back then, so her meal consisted of dried fish and plain rice.
She might not be of pedigree breed like those Persians but her grace surpassed them all. Possessing a profound initiative to learn, she’d sit patiently on my desk observing my typing. Once I stopped, it was her turn at the typewriter. You could say Katie was only being playful but she never was. Maybe she was alone and had no playmates to share her funs and games with. She never run around chasing after falling leaves or amusing herself at the shrubs. She carried herself regally, observing life maturely and living it free of dominance.
Katie and I did not share that kind of bond she had with my brother. I do not remember hugging her nor did she like snuggling up to me. Whenever I tried ruffling her fur she snarled back. Let us admit, our birthdates do not match.
During the night, she’d creep up and settled comfortably at my brother’s feet. At 7am without fail, her meowing echoed throughout the house. It was time for her feed. If you ignored her calls, she’d climb on your bed, place her face closed to yours and screamed her throat dry until you satisfied her request. After her feed, she resumed her sleep and you’d be fully awake.
When it was time for her to meet her boyfriends, Katie’d disappear for days. When they came a calling, she never invite them for the night. If you thought you wanted to video tape their liaison, forget about it. She was prim and proper, and never for once let out that her estrogen had overflowed.
Even during her presence the rats still clowned around. You could hear them conferencing and scrambling across the ceiling. She never gave them a chase and they never dare to descend from the ceiling top. Just a meow from Katie and the rats would whisper with each other and tiptoed on their little feet. This was how Katie organized the rat community, like an army general. If a rat was unfortunate to get caught, she’d pawed it, let it made its escape, pawed it back, tossed it like a ball until it was exhausted and slowly breathed its last breath. Then she walked away and left us to bury the dead, without a bite.
Rats were not a delicacy for her, she did not share our penchant for rat meat, even the newly born rats which we believe possessed a medicinal purpose for treating internal injuries. She sniffed, wagged her tail, meowed and then turned away. A very stuffy cat.
When she noticed her claws are long and bothered her movements, Katie manicured them by scrabbling on the doorposts. Her scratches were so deep, they defaced the grains of the wood. Just do not raise your voice at her, she would growl back at you.
She could be very revengeful at times. No other cats, dogs or fowls ever dared to come near our house when she was around except for our neighbor’s pet dog, Rocky. Rocky was a well behaved and well mannered half Alsatian. He guarded both his owners and our house. He tried to win Katie over by hovering near her. She refused to extend her friendship by displaying her sharp teeth, her paws raised to claw him. Rocky tolerated her unfriendliness by withdrawing and keeping silent each time. Whenever I left some food for Rocky she would meow her disapproval. On one occasion when Rocky was gobbling down the food I offered him, I stretched out my leg to block her flight. Rocky managed to make a hasty escape. She boomeranged, clawed and took a nasty bite on my ankle. She hated both of us.
I was away when Katie met her death. It was a cruel and terrible death. Being aggressive she had fought with my aunt’s “mad” dog over territorial rights. He came over to our compound and Katie was not pleased about it. She gave chase and he being wild, refused to listen to my aunt’s pleads to leave. He advanced on her. Small in comparison, Katie was no match for him. He bit her neck and swung her from left to right. Her throat was wrenched and dangled from her neck. She died in great pain, in a pool of blood.
Katie left behind a daughter, Milly. Katie was dainty whilst Milly was a complete opposite, playful, impartial to her surroundings and very dependent for help. Katie was a good mother. She taught Milly how to live a cat’s life which Milly was totally helpless and ignorant. When her mother passed away, Milly disappeared for days and came back completely changed. She was mellow, quiet, desolate and so lost. She’d rest her paws and chin on the threshold of our front door, stared with sightless eyes outside, meowed occasionally, waiting for her mother to come home. Her mother never came back and she had a difficult time adjusting to a new life.
Katie was adopted into our family when the mice wanted to rule our household creating an uncontrollable chaos. Cat food was not available to us back then, so her meal consisted of dried fish and plain rice.
She might not be of pedigree breed like those Persians but her grace surpassed them all. Possessing a profound initiative to learn, she’d sit patiently on my desk observing my typing. Once I stopped, it was her turn at the typewriter. You could say Katie was only being playful but she never was. Maybe she was alone and had no playmates to share her funs and games with. She never run around chasing after falling leaves or amusing herself at the shrubs. She carried herself regally, observing life maturely and living it free of dominance.
Katie and I did not share that kind of bond she had with my brother. I do not remember hugging her nor did she like snuggling up to me. Whenever I tried ruffling her fur she snarled back. Let us admit, our birthdates do not match.
During the night, she’d creep up and settled comfortably at my brother’s feet. At 7am without fail, her meowing echoed throughout the house. It was time for her feed. If you ignored her calls, she’d climb on your bed, place her face closed to yours and screamed her throat dry until you satisfied her request. After her feed, she resumed her sleep and you’d be fully awake.
When it was time for her to meet her boyfriends, Katie’d disappear for days. When they came a calling, she never invite them for the night. If you thought you wanted to video tape their liaison, forget about it. She was prim and proper, and never for once let out that her estrogen had overflowed.
Even during her presence the rats still clowned around. You could hear them conferencing and scrambling across the ceiling. She never gave them a chase and they never dare to descend from the ceiling top. Just a meow from Katie and the rats would whisper with each other and tiptoed on their little feet. This was how Katie organized the rat community, like an army general. If a rat was unfortunate to get caught, she’d pawed it, let it made its escape, pawed it back, tossed it like a ball until it was exhausted and slowly breathed its last breath. Then she walked away and left us to bury the dead, without a bite.
Rats were not a delicacy for her, she did not share our penchant for rat meat, even the newly born rats which we believe possessed a medicinal purpose for treating internal injuries. She sniffed, wagged her tail, meowed and then turned away. A very stuffy cat.
When she noticed her claws are long and bothered her movements, Katie manicured them by scrabbling on the doorposts. Her scratches were so deep, they defaced the grains of the wood. Just do not raise your voice at her, she would growl back at you.
She could be very revengeful at times. No other cats, dogs or fowls ever dared to come near our house when she was around except for our neighbor’s pet dog, Rocky. Rocky was a well behaved and well mannered half Alsatian. He guarded both his owners and our house. He tried to win Katie over by hovering near her. She refused to extend her friendship by displaying her sharp teeth, her paws raised to claw him. Rocky tolerated her unfriendliness by withdrawing and keeping silent each time. Whenever I left some food for Rocky she would meow her disapproval. On one occasion when Rocky was gobbling down the food I offered him, I stretched out my leg to block her flight. Rocky managed to make a hasty escape. She boomeranged, clawed and took a nasty bite on my ankle. She hated both of us.
I was away when Katie met her death. It was a cruel and terrible death. Being aggressive she had fought with my aunt’s “mad” dog over territorial rights. He came over to our compound and Katie was not pleased about it. She gave chase and he being wild, refused to listen to my aunt’s pleads to leave. He advanced on her. Small in comparison, Katie was no match for him. He bit her neck and swung her from left to right. Her throat was wrenched and dangled from her neck. She died in great pain, in a pool of blood.
Katie left behind a daughter, Milly. Katie was dainty whilst Milly was a complete opposite, playful, impartial to her surroundings and very dependent for help. Katie was a good mother. She taught Milly how to live a cat’s life which Milly was totally helpless and ignorant. When her mother passed away, Milly disappeared for days and came back completely changed. She was mellow, quiet, desolate and so lost. She’d rest her paws and chin on the threshold of our front door, stared with sightless eyes outside, meowed occasionally, waiting for her mother to come home. Her mother never came back and she had a difficult time adjusting to a new life.
That was the end of Katie and memories of her live till today
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