So a few years ago , I was friends with a beautiful beige stray cat. We met a few times in a park nearby and shared a few rubs (mostly given by me). We’ll call him Rusty throughout this article , though I don’t think Rusty knows he’s Rusty because I never got an opportunity to name him, the idea never crossed my mind.And names are such anthropogenic concept anyway. So one day, Rusty arrived at my door at five or four in the morning. He kept meowing till I opened the door and let him in.This later, became his daily ritual.
On the day one he marked his territory on my bed and I of course,had to make some minor adjustments to accommodate his presence.
He was a great cat , adorable ,cute and intelligent. He could have been the most intelligent and maybe even philosophical living being I had met in college, but only if we understood each other’s language. Unfortunately, he knew he was cute and adorable, used those qualities to his best, to emotionally manipulate everyone around him. He could be mean sometimes and is arrogant and stuck up always but we don’t know what’s going on in his mind. May be that’s his coping mechanism. May be he went through a traumatic experience . May be he is just trying get over a bad break up.It could have been a tough mating season for him. Let’s not categorize this as stereotypical cat behavior. I was just glad that despite his stuck up nature , he still came to me for my warm bed to get him through the cold nights.Yeah, I know I was shamelessly using my having-a-bed privilege to gain his friendship.
In his head Rusty was probably the king of the world.A world full of butterflies to chase and birdies to hunt.He ambled around the hostel with an imaginary crown on his head.
There were a few bad days especially the week he was very sick …
..and then he got better .
He went back to stalking birdies and climbing trees of which he couldn’t get down of without help.
And then one day, he left.He stopped coming to my room.
I met him twice or thrice outside but those meetings only lasted few moments.Days, Weeks and months passed by and he was gone.
He walked into my life and then he walked out of it , just like that, leaving behind his lingering presence everywhere.
A year later I left college and moved to another city.
I believe that we don’t own our pets. The concept sounds as weird as a person owning another person. We can’t own a life. We take their lives and their choices for granted [And Maybe this idea that i am arguing is an Utopian concept but so be it then. One more stupid blog-post on the internet ].We just have pets , just like we have friends and family. We make friends with our pets. We share a portion of time, space and life with one another.
And just like with other friends sometimes we have to part our ways with our pets too and that’s okay.
In the immortalized words of Elsa from Frozen “Let it go”. And I did.
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