Every morning after breakfast, I open our gate and feed my two regular customers with brekkie leftovers. From the time they hear the clinking of spoons on plates, up till the moment my keys noisily slip in the gate’s lock, these two tomcats’ non-stop meowing would be the soundtrack of the neighborhood.
It has always been like that for years now, and safe to say, I have come to treat them like pets (in an unofficial way of course). Last Christmas or I think it was, I even treated them to real cat food, those expensive Whiskas thingies you buy in malls. However, there would also be instances when there would be no food left over and I’d simply say, sorry, not today. I’d feel bad in a way of course, but that is just the way it is. However, recognizing them as strays, with having no hooman homes to go to, I feel confident still that as survivors, they can fend for themselves even when I am unable to.
I guess that is pretty much the same with people because we are all strays in an allusive way. Cats, when they have learned to trust someone, like to rub against that someone’s legs for the security and the comfort it provides. Some scientists say it’s a way of energy transfer. We may not do it like they do (God forbid), but the cat in all of us, rubs itself into friends, family, and even strangers at times. That said comfortability completes us in a way. If cats could talk, they might as well blurt out, “You complete me!” a memè so common in the human world because that’s exactly the way we feel when relating with some people.
On the other hand, like solitary cats, we are also hunters. We seek out whatever needs to be had, fend for ourselves, go on survival-mode (a catch-all for doing what we do) and make it through another day. This instinct is present in all of the animal farm, er kingdom.
Back to my feeding strays, what do I get out of this seemingly one-sided habit? A salvador del mundo syndrome? I pray not. A politician’s photo op moment? Haha and ha. Up till now, I reckon the satisfaction is mine alone, and I’m leaving it at that, though I still haven’t a word for it yet. The routine completes me, and the satisfaction is at least very real. By the way, I get the same wow when I’m watering the plants. So, I spray, we spray.
HONORING MY MOTHER
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