Today’s guest post comes from Daksha:
To a Grey Tabby called Biscuit
Well Biscuit, it is two years now since you padded into my house like most kitties do, without permission, invitation or prior notice!
Five kids playing around in my street, brought me to you, begging me to take you in as you had a wounded leg and their mothers would not allow them to adopt you. One girl, Rupa, who loved you the most, begged me most desperately when I refused, as I already had four cats and could not, would not keep one more. And then you were my my fifth cat!
A dark grey tabby! Then as you settled down and slunk inside my heart, as all cats do, I began to grumble half heartedly to you saying “Biscuit I always wanted a black cat and I got you, dark grey, like the ancient iron tea pot in my house. It had come from a favourite aunt and was lovely, and had a cheering pot of ivy growing inside it.
Even earlier, five years ago I had begged God and everyone I knew, for a black cat. Then too, a grey cat had sneaked into my home, through a terrace door foolishly left open at night! I had woken up to find Kittles, the grey stray whom I used to feed on the terrace, sitting on my best white organdie sari with five brand new kittens, all orange and ginger ones! But that is another story…
Well every time I look at you, and see the neat, dark grey and almost black ribbons of your body I tell you, well you are almost black but not quite black as midnight! Then came that pitiless time when my orange cat was slowly dying, after several painful nights with kidney disease.
I sat by her, playing Mozart’s Laudate Dominum and other gems, and then Beethoven’s symphonies. And while all the other cats had already deserted Tiger, the dying cat, you began to come and sit by us, faithfully and insistently, like a leech. I tried so often to push you away thinking it might not be healthy for you to be near illness. But you stuck to us, like a bonus from the bank that never got used up or like the lustrous burnished philodendron that never dies how ever much you neglect it.
It was a very strange, sorrowing darkness and it was shared by a dark grey tabby, not even four months old, who watched with me over a dying cat. It built a very startling bond. And it finally made me tell you one day “I know I always wanted a black as coal kitty, but now I am in love, deeply, entrancingly in love with a dark grey tabby!” And like all cats do, you just blinked away like a small
Golden furry Lantern glowing in the blackest of all possible black nights!
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