Furriendship

I once wrote about two cats that my siblings and I loved like our own family. They themselves were siblings. Both were beautiful; their blue eyes complemented the white fur. The one with long tail was elegant. The one with short tail was mischievous. We truly, truly loved them. 

I will always remember the day that they left us. How my brothers took a rest in between yard work by taking turns to push them in a wheelbarrow, around the house. How they wagged their tails, meowed in excitement, and pleaded with their eyes to be pushed that way again once one of my brothers stopped. How the two of them retreated to the orchard when everybody else was consumed with tasks. Suddenly, they returned to us, sick. We suspected they were stung by snake. Maghrib was approaching. Nonetheless, we made our way to Rembau, but, the veterinary clinic was not open. It being our first time with such emergency, we did not know who to call. Ayah said, "perform Maghrib first." After the congregational prayer, we rushed to the cats, only to find them breathing their last breath. It was too sad. Since then, we never had resident cats.

We have always welcomed stray cats though. More so when Khalish showed interest in them. 

The cats love him, too. The ones that love him most happen to have white fur. One in Rembau, and another in Bangi.

The photo above is the unnamed stray cat in Bangi. Kamal and I simply call it Khalish's Cat. Once, the cat appeared at the stairs - It entered the house through the open windows upstairs. It stood there, staring at me. I told him, "Khalish is not around; he is out with his daddy." The cat then walked away.

The following days, when the boy followed his daddy to places again, it would sit at a small space between the front window and the grille, and gaze outside for a long time. Probably searching for Khalish. He should be given the honour to name his old friend.