Me and The Unnamed Kitten, and My Hatred Towards Cats (Part 1)

My housemate has just gotten himself a kitten. I am not impressed.

You see, it’s not too hard to discover that your housemate is keeping a cat, what with him not trying to keep that as a secret and stuff. 

This is a kucing batu, which looks exactly like the cat in this entry

I got into the bathroom last week, taking my routine midnight bath (in case you’re wondering, yes I bathe to help myself sleep better) and I heard, unmistakably, the meows of a cat.

Shrugging it off, I convinced myself it’s the neighbour’s cat, finishing my bath and went to sleep. The next day, while I was taking my laundry from the line in the balcony, I saw, unmistakably, a kitten in a cage.

The kitten is not an ordinary local cat, it’s an exotic species – the fur is the telltale sign. The pattern of the kitten’s black fur is quite similar to a kucing batu’s, with rectangular prints all the way from head to tail. The eyes are dark black, and it was looking at me, and suddenly it meows. 

I ignored the cat, because I am not a great fan of cats (and it’s bordering on hate). I hope my housemate will get rid of the cat, because hell no I’m going to have a pet in this house.

So the next day after I got back from work, even before I turned in the key, I already was hearing the cat meowing from behind the door. As soon as I opened the door, the cat quickly crept between my legs, following my steps from the front door to my room. As you could now imagine, having something between your legs while you’re walking is a good start for an impromptu soccer game, and thus I could not help but accidentally kicking the cat to the wall every now and then.

The cat proves to be from a shameless breed, for it would still crawled back between my legs even after I (accidentally!) kicked it a few times and sent it flying across the room. I know why after all; it wanted the food that I brought back. 

I struggled to shake off the cat from tailing me. It tried frantically to follow me into my room, while I frantically tried to deny it access. I had to run across the living room so it would follow me there, and ran back as fast as I could into my room and slammed the door shut so it couldn’t manage to get in.

While I managed to get it out of my sight, it was still adamant in letting me hear its meowing. I finished my dinner to the background sound without guilt and get out of my room. As soon as I got out, the cat went from resting to restless in a second. It followed me as if hoping I still have food for it. (Sorry cat, I don’t)

It was raining cats and dogs on that day (no pun intended). I got back from work to find my sarong on the balcony, soaked in rain. And clearly the cat has stepped on it. I hated the cat even more. Nevertheless, being a good person as I always was, I fed the cat with tuna in a can, left over from my last picnic at Sungai Pisang. (Well about that, the tuna already got maggots and some fungi on it, which I had scrapped off). My housemate only got back at 10:00 that night, which left me wondering if he hopes the cat dies or something because cats are not supposed to be locked in from dawn to dusk without food. See, even I, the cat-hater cares to that extend. 

The next day, the cat waited for me to open the front door – meowing continuously at the prospective human door opener. As soon as the door was opened, it quickly ran out, and I had to chase it back into the house. I began to feel annoyed with my housemate irresponsibility; letting the cat do whatever it pleases. I did not sign up to be a cat owner, or a cat caretaker. I don’t want to chase his cat back into the house if it gets out, in fact getting it out from the house is what I would love to do. I don’t even want to feed the cat when it chases me, I don’t want to care even slightly for the cat. 

I was just a few steps into the house when I smelled something very smelly. Lo and behold, this is a mystery with an obvious answer. It’s the cat’s poo! 

The cat is clever enough to only poop in his cage, but my housemate has left the feces in the cage without cleaning them. Now the whole balcony and kitchen which is adjacent to the balcony smell like cat’s dung and I couldn’t even hang my clothes at the balcony, or else it would absorb the scent of the cat’s secretion. Cooking, or even remotely putting my food around the vicinity of the kitchen now is equivalent to eating in a toilet. A cat’s toilet, to be exact. 

I locked the cat out in the balcony, and I had my shower. The cat, as usual, meowing to get in. suddenly, from the bathroom window facing the balcony, the cat appeared. It jumped several meters high, climbing the wall to get there. It put its paws on the window surface, begging me to let it in. thinking of the drama of getting chased by it, to having to feed it, I made a resolution to not give in to the cat. 

But that cat is sure clever. It went silent for a few minutes, and as I opened the bathroom door, the cat is already outside, waiting for me to feed it. 

I had to block the cat from entering my room, as I had nothing to offer to the cat. But the cat still got in, and straightaway went under the bed. I lost my temper when it walked everywhere, sniffing my things and leaving its fur behind. I went out of the room because I knew it would follow me, for now the cat has associated me as a foodgiver; that it’d assume wherever I go I would have food with me.

I used my usual tactic, running here and there in the living room, and as soon as the cat couldn’t keep up, I would run for my room, slam the door shut, and leaving the cat outside; meowing non stop until its rightful owner came back.    

My hatred towards cat, is not actually hatred if you really knew me. I rarely open up to my friends about how I eventually see cats as something that I should avoid at all costs. Because someone who doesn’t care, was someone who once cared too much.

(To Be Continued)