You were beautiful. You were very young and innocent. All you knew was how to purr when happy and how to shriek when scared. Your fur was naturally clean and smelled like fresh milk. I held you delicately and took you home for the first time. I was excited.
You were a little scared. I know. Who was I to you, anyway? I was a stranger. I took you to a completely different place. I took you to a house where there were no other fellows like you. You probably felt alone. Worse, my house mates didn’t give you a very warm welcome. They disliked cats. So, I had to put you out. I had to put you out even when you cried. You cried for several minutes. Minutes counted to hours. You didn’t tire of crying. You begged for me, someone to let you in. It’s cold and scary outside. It’s a big world outside and you don’t have a bit of an idea what’s out there. You stayed close by the window. Your cry weakened but you refused to stop. You cried and cried. And I could do nothing. I did nothing.
I couldn’t let you cry for so long. I wanted to provide you a nice home. So, I thought I’d bring you home to my mom. I thought maybe she could take care of you better while I was away. I put you in a paper bag.
On the way home, I tried to hold you so you’d stop freaking out. I loved you and I held you so you’d feel warmer. And maybe you’d calm down. But you did not stop crying. You struggled to break free. It was so hard to commute with you struggling the whole time. I was still two hours away from my parents’ home.
I got impatient. I got irritated of you. You just wouldn’t stop. You kept trying to get out of the paper bag and where did you wanna go? Did you wanna escape? Did you want to be free? Fine, I thought. Maybe I’d just let you. Then, I wouldn’t have to bother my housemates or my mom anymore. Or myself. Maybe I wasn’t capable to take care of you. Maybe you were better off independent and free. You’re a cat, anyway.
So, I put down the paper bag. You got out and I didn’t stop you. I watched you. You traced a few paw prints at a time, examining the ground. It was sandy and dusty. I watched you and it was hard. I wanted to pick you up and hold you back in my arms and take you home. But I just stood there. Again, I did nothing.
I went home to my mom’s house—without you. I went home without you. And I just hated myself. I was so ashamed that I started to cry. I cried in my room. I cried and cried, just like how you cried outside the window. I couldn’t stop. I felt scared and alone just like how you felt. And I felt stupid. I was stupid. I know crying and suffering with guilt wasn’t enough to excuse my tactless action. It wasn’t going to bring you back. Crying wasn’t going to save you.
Days passed and my housemates said they might have seen you at the town square. They said you looked dirty and some loafers spared you crackers. It sounded pathetic. You could have been with me instead of the loafers. You could have chewed on more nutritious cat food than leftover crackers. You could have still smelled like fresh milk than of, maybe, garbage. Well, they said don’t worry. You’re a cat, anyway.
I was stupid and weak, and you were the one who suffered because of it. It wasn’t your fault. I took you away from your mother. And then, I deprived you of a home. I deprived you of the love that you deserved. I put you in a scary place you had no idea of. Alone.
And I’m very, very sorry.
Cats are cunning and independent but they should not be thrown away as easily as disposing garbage. They should not be taken away from a family especially at a young age. They should not be wandering aimlessly on the streets. Not at all. They should have a home to come back to. They should not see the world as cruel and heedless of their existence. Instead, they should be taught that the world is beautiful and full of love so that they can also learn how to love in return.
A cat’s love is so sweet and tender as its fur and whoever experiences it…is lucky.