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My cats: Four mews and a Meow

Cats regard people as warm blooded furniture.-Jacquelyn

Mitchard

I grew up with cats and they grew on me. The first cat that came to my house was a feral

but in those days I didn't know what feral meant. I was a 7 year old fledgling and she wasa full grown cat a very fluffy, adorable, cuddly toy - and I wanted it for myself and my

siblings wanted her too. But the feral had a mind of her own; she came to our house only

when the pungent aroma of fish being fried in mustard oil reached her sharp nostrils amile away.

Familiarity breeds contempt and so as the cat got familiar with us, she became bold and

rash. She would creep into the kitchen and steal anything that was even vaguely eatable.And one day she decided to move in permanently in our huge house. She chose the store

room, which we seldom opened. Her ingress into this room was through a high ventilator.

One morning, with sleep still lingering at the corners of my eyes, as I was walkingtowards the courtyard, music reached my ears. It was a continuous chorus of mew-mew-

mew mixed with occasional meow of the cat. I had no idea then why the cat was in a

musical mood sending out low and high pitched meows. I ran back into the house andone by one pulled away the blankets from over my sleeping brothers and sister shouting

at them "wake up, wake up the cat is up to something, she is inside the store room".

Four youngsters of different ages were soon out into the court yard, yawning and rubbingtheir eyes. The eldest of us understood the significance of the chorus coming out from thestore room and in a jiffy he was off to fetch the keys and a few moments later all of us

were inside it. Suddenly, the music stopped

In that heap of boxes and empty jars and bottles we couldn't find the source of the music

but then the cat popped out from one of the cardboard boxes and shambled towards us,

purring. She rubbed her back against our shins several times and waddled towards thebox and then she looked back at us as if inviting her to follow her. Four pairs of curious

eyes followed her intently and then we heard the 'mews' again. We crawled forward and

peeped into the box; inside the box were four tiny furry kittens barely a day old. Their

eyes still closed they looked so fragile and helpless. Our faces lit up and we were soonwhispering to each other and bargaining who would own the brown and white and the

mottled one and who would take the yellow one with black spot on the head and under

whose care would go the one with banded tail. Once this was settled we discussed namesfor them and each one of them got its name corresponding to its general appearance

pakku, tunny, motu, and goru. Thereafter, we all wanted to hold those lovely ones but the

eldest of us firmly kept us in check. He forbade holding and cuddling those fur balls foranother 15 days when their eyes would open and they would start walking. His wisdom

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was well established among us and so we reluctantly agreed to follow the of 'kitten

handling rules' set by him. But, well, that very day in the evening we caught the rule

maker, red-handed, sneaking into the store room and fondling the kittens. From then itbecame free for all - we were all over cats and they were all over us for next 11years.

@ Suhas Kumar