On 22nd January, two feline whirlwinds came into our lives and turned it upside down…for good
Three-month-old Roman and one-month-old Nikita.
They were waifish, scraggly, and had big eyes that demanded love and constant affection.
Now, I am not a pet person. I don’t like the way they feel when you carry them. It almost feels like you’ll squash their organs if care is not taken. I am a firm believer that anything with fur, feathers, or fangs should live outside in nature, not inside with people. Sure, I would like to have a goldfish when I get my own place but that’s about it. So naturally, I was a bit uncomfortable with our new feline flatmates.
My room became my haven. It was the only place I could prevent our little furballs from entering.
But that didn’t stop them.
I’d feed them and bolt straight to my room and they would follow. I would shut the door and they’d stay there, meowing plaintively.
It was so frustrating.
And don’t get me started on the stares. They both did it but Roman’s was just unsettling. She would stare at me for what seemed like ages and then blink slowly. It scared the beeswax out of me. I was operating at half-mast, writing with ears tuned for please-love-me meows. One minute I would be writing, the next, something furry would rub up on my ankles. It was cute but exhausting.
Wednesday, 27th January 2021, was a somber day for us. It was meant to be a slow day. The only plan was to get our National Identification Numbers (NIN). Everything flew out the window when my younger brother told me Roman was acting strange. When I saw her, I knew she’d die if we didn’t act fast.
We were in a dilemma.
Forego our spots for the issuing of our NIN or go to the Vet.
The Nigerian government had disappointed us innumerable times and life was always at the top of the priority list, so the choice was pretty obvious.
We rushed to the Vet. Apparently, she caught an infection from the market where we bought her. This explained her lack of appetite and lethargy. I cried a lot as the doctors did their best to bring her back. The relief and happiness were palpable when she came to and started meowing.
Everything was fine now.
Roman died later that day. We rushed her to the Vet yet again, but the place was closed. Working hours were over. All our efforts to help her were futile. It was painful to watch. Her breaths came in chilling, hacks as she tried to hold on to life. Nikita looked as confused and as sad as we felt. Saliva dribbled all over Roman’s face and slowly her eyes went blank and her body, limp. We all felt bad for how she went, but most especially, we felt bad for Nikita. That night, she found it hard to sleep. Her snuggle buddy was gone. She was listless and uncharacteristically quiet.
It hurt me to remember those times Roman would lie near my door meowing, hoping to be let in. Nikita always left quickly but Roman usually stayed for longer. Anytime I opened the door, she would give me that stare and blink. I later discovered the stare-blink combo was a kitty kiss (thanks to Quora. I practically live on cat Quora now)
That night, we came close to giving Nikita away to a friend with cats. That way, Nikita would have playmates and I would have peace. I felt bad because I knew she might not survive there. You see, Nikita was raised in less than optimal conditions and is so jittery. She gets vertigo on car rides, doesn’t eat if we are all absent, and is scared of feathers, teddy bears, and objects that move too fast for her to process. So naturally, I worried about how she would cope with older, territorial cats. Faced with the loss of this baby, I knew I had to conquer my fear.
One endearing quality about Nikita is how friendly she is. You should see how excited she is to see me in the morning! Whenever she gets in that mood, she wants to brush your ankles and climb your feet. The latter is what bothers me. I was always afraid she’d scratch or injure me. So anytime I see her coming, I take my feet out of the way. I’ve been on Google more times than I can count searching stuff like ”how to get over cat phobia”, “how painful are cat scratches?” and “can I die from a cat scratch or cat scratch disease.”
I came up with a way to eat my cake and have it. I decided to wear sneakers all the time, that way she could play with my toes without the risk of me getting scratched. It was a neat plan. Unfortunately, Nikita wasn’t having that nonsense. She would meow at my shoes and walk away with her little tail in the air.
It was so frustrating.
No matter how hard I tried, she would always snub me and my sneakered feet and opt to play with someone else. At that point, I was convinced the little critter had sinister plans for my toes.
On Friday, I realized I was probably catastrophizing. I had asked my brother a gazillion times how her claws feel on skin and though he said it wasn’t painful, I kept imagining the worst. I finally tired of this line of thinking and decided to take the risk. Worst case scenario, I get scratched. Either way, I had to lose the shoes. It was wonderful. Her claws felt like little, tickly pinpricks. It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined it at all. It was really all in my head.
In life, we tend to do the same thing I did with my cat. We plan, unplan and replan things, wear sneakers and make a thousand and one contingency plans. We are scared of getting hurt, burned, rejected, or taken for granted so we tread carefully.
We reject ourselves without even applying for the job.
We close our hearts to love after being burned once.
We imagine the worst of everyone and every opportunity that comes our way because we are too scared to try.
The truth is in the sea of life, there are no lifebuoys or life jackets. You have to raw dog it, man. That’s the painful truth. That’s the only way to get the good stuff and only way to live to the fullest. Just like Nikita snubbed me and my sneakers, life doesn’t care for your contingencies. Everything is risky. From leaving your house each day, exploring that attraction, and working out down to applying for that job, falling in love, or moving to a new state or country.
You can’t calculate and extrapolate all the risks no matter how hard you try. You just have to be like Nike and just do it. The greatest disservice you would do yourself is deciding to not put yourself out there, explore or try because of those risks. That’s half-living and it goes against the first prerogative of life which is to live and live fully.
On one of my trips to the kitty side of the internet, I learned something important about feline behavior that also applies to life. When a cat likes and trusts you, it shows you its belly. At this point, the cat is at its most vulnerable. This position leaves it exposed and open to attacks. However, it is willing to take that risk to show its trust and get your attention and affection in return.
I find that this kind of vulnerability and willingness to take risks yields the best results, whether you are a cat or a human trying to figure out your life, investments, relationships, your career, etc. Vulnerability doesn’t come easy. It takes a certain kind of strength to strip yourself down to the bone. With regards to relationships, it’s a bit like giving the other person the power to hurt and break you but trusting they won’t. Sometimes, it ends in tears and other times, you make magic together. With creative work, being vulnerable, bleeding all over your work, and infusing emotions people would rather ignore, makes for relatable and unforgettable outcomes. Yes, people might get offended, make fun of or judge you for it but it could also be what brings you into the spotlight.
The list is endless.
February is as good a place to start. There is something about new months and beginnings. Take risks, ditch the sneakers and be vulnerable.
Here’s a video of Nikita getting herself in a complicated situation and wailing about it while Roman looks on in long-suffering silence.
Like what you read? Check out Karmic Amnesia and Reasons Why Karma is B.S.
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