When it comes to fuzzy wuzzy furballs, how can anyone ever discriminate between pups and kittens, dogs and cats, or for that matter, any hairy mammalian species (except certain Homo sapiens who should be taxonomified as Homo sap-your-lifebloodiens) that inhabits the planet. I sometimes find the question - are you a dog person or a cat person - particularly annoying. The thing is, I love them all, in all their shapes and sizes (all right, barring the neighbourhood, particularly high-pitched Pomeranian who is more often than not leashed and who thinks it's his or her birthright to bark and bay at the drop of the hat, cap, sombrero or whatever headgear you might be wearing). In this case, too, I will give benefit of doubt to the breed and it would suffice to blame the humans who keep their dog tied almost always and never give them the opportunity to be what they really are - dogs.
Anyway, today, I have two cats (one cat and frisky teenaged kitten, I believe, drawing parallels in his behaviour and human teenagers) and the decision to adopt them was never easy.
The first time it occurred to me that I needed a furball to help me cope with the stupidly harsh realities of life was when I had given the city of Mumbai a lot of blood, sweat, tears and countless hair on my pate. It was decided that in order to make sense of this apparently purposelessly spinning glob of water and rock, I should get me a kitten. Adopting a puppy was impractical, for that would have meant 24x7esque attention (which neither I nor my friend and flatmate could afford). It was a life-changing decision, to say the least, and one that I will never, ever, regret (sorry Taylor Swift, this "never, ever" reference sounds far more sensible in this context than any of your undeserved Grammy awards performances).
HRH Wasabi
Wasabi happened then, almost two years ago. With a little help, persuasion and encouragement from friends (read flatmate, an erstwhile Farmville neighbour on FB, and a workplace colleague), she arrived home. Naming her Wasabi was fraught with hours of contemplation. She could have been Aloowalia, given her penchant for the potato (aloo in Hindi, and Ahluwalia being a common surname in northern India) basket in the kitchen, but that was soon ruled out and Wasabi chosen for her sharp claws and teeth and our love for the quintessential Japanese condiment that gives beer that extra kick.
Wasabi, despite all the drama she did on her way home from a Bandra terrace to a Malad 1-BHK, was quick to declare the latter as her sole territory. She became the Queen of the humble dwelling, and was aptly anointed Her Royal Highness With Parenthesis Around Her Nose by a former colleague and fellow furball lover (if I may say so).
On nights I returned from work devoid of any joie-de-vivre and willingness to be enthusiastic about anything in the world, HRH Wasabi was quick to wipe it all away. As she grew from being a month-old kitten to a teenage kitty, she brought back much of the excitement of being alive that was otherwise sucked dry in the daily grind, the local train travels, the endless traffic and oft-brain dead work.
As fate would have it, Wasabi was, in less than a year of claiming her Queendom, subjected to her first trauma - change of cities. She endured a flight in a cage relegated to the luggage section of the aeroplane. She successfully moved to New Delhi, but not without complaint (which is an understatement). However, she soon adapted and adopted a bigger home space as her own. And grew up quicker than I could say cat. Things were going smoothly, creaselessly and seamlessly in her domain. She had sole proprietorship of my limbs, furniture and any drama associated with contact with another human. For a year, it was so, till a surprise kitten threatened to disrupt the power equation in the house.
Enter Momlette
Momlette, who I first got acquainted with as Fire, happened more through chance than by design. He was this little ginger kitten, ever afraid, cautious and restless. That was my first impression of him. My heart went out to him, but I never imagined he would actually be a part of the lives of Wasabi and me. Nevertheless, he was here to stay, and Wasabi had no clue. She was not pleased.
The best advice I got at that time was to let things run their natural course. Yet, I had to be watchful of Madame's reaction. She hissed and swiped at Momlette, and hid and wallowed on the topmost kitchen shelf. It broke my heart to see her like this.
Momlette, on the other hand, was discovering his new-found Kingdom.
It took me one day off work and a night of standing on the kitchen shelf just to convince HRH Wasabi that she needed to get down and familiarise, socialise with her own kind. If my back gave me pain in the process, I couldn't afford to pay heed. And indeed, she did relent, but not without her empress demeanour.
She descended from her perch, and was almost ready to kill this little imp when I intervened. I quickly took him into my arms, like a parent would his child to protect him from harm. And sat there as Wasabi stared at us. And I stared back at her, Momlette in tow. We sat like that for who knows how many hours. But I think that's what sent out the message - Momlette was one of us and she better accept him.
She did, eventually. The next morning. She couldn't resist the temptation to play with the ball Momlette was playing with. She couldn't resist chasing this hyperactive little ball of fur, too.
Soon, the dark clouds of potential enmity and rejection dissolved into a little happy trio - two cats and a human.
Soon, the house was resounding with chases, crash and clang of things around.
Soon, Wasabi grew to be the big cat, now more royal in her ways than ever and keeper of all feline dignity I ever witnessed.
Soon, I grew to understand what it takes to be a parent who has to balance and equitably apportion love to all his or her children.
And soon, Momlette, Wasabi and I learned natural harmony comes instinctively - one doesn't have to try hard, or try at all.
Anyway, today, I have two cats (one cat and frisky teenaged kitten, I believe, drawing parallels in his behaviour and human teenagers) and the decision to adopt them was never easy.
The first time it occurred to me that I needed a furball to help me cope with the stupidly harsh realities of life was when I had given the city of Mumbai a lot of blood, sweat, tears and countless hair on my pate. It was decided that in order to make sense of this apparently purposelessly spinning glob of water and rock, I should get me a kitten. Adopting a puppy was impractical, for that would have meant 24x7esque attention (which neither I nor my friend and flatmate could afford). It was a life-changing decision, to say the least, and one that I will never, ever, regret (sorry Taylor Swift, this "never, ever" reference sounds far more sensible in this context than any of your undeserved Grammy awards performances).
HRH Wasabi
Wasabi, despite all the drama she did on her way home from a Bandra terrace to a Malad 1-BHK, was quick to declare the latter as her sole territory. She became the Queen of the humble dwelling, and was aptly anointed Her Royal Highness With Parenthesis Around Her Nose by a former colleague and fellow furball lover (if I may say so).
On nights I returned from work devoid of any joie-de-vivre and willingness to be enthusiastic about anything in the world, HRH Wasabi was quick to wipe it all away. As she grew from being a month-old kitten to a teenage kitty, she brought back much of the excitement of being alive that was otherwise sucked dry in the daily grind, the local train travels, the endless traffic and oft-brain dead work.
As fate would have it, Wasabi was, in less than a year of claiming her Queendom, subjected to her first trauma - change of cities. She endured a flight in a cage relegated to the luggage section of the aeroplane. She successfully moved to New Delhi, but not without complaint (which is an understatement). However, she soon adapted and adopted a bigger home space as her own. And grew up quicker than I could say cat. Things were going smoothly, creaselessly and seamlessly in her domain. She had sole proprietorship of my limbs, furniture and any drama associated with contact with another human. For a year, it was so, till a surprise kitten threatened to disrupt the power equation in the house.
Enter Momlette
Momlette, who I first got acquainted with as Fire, happened more through chance than by design. He was this little ginger kitten, ever afraid, cautious and restless. That was my first impression of him. My heart went out to him, but I never imagined he would actually be a part of the lives of Wasabi and me. Nevertheless, he was here to stay, and Wasabi had no clue. She was not pleased.
The best advice I got at that time was to let things run their natural course. Yet, I had to be watchful of Madame's reaction. She hissed and swiped at Momlette, and hid and wallowed on the topmost kitchen shelf. It broke my heart to see her like this.
Momlette, on the other hand, was discovering his new-found Kingdom.
It took me one day off work and a night of standing on the kitchen shelf just to convince HRH Wasabi that she needed to get down and familiarise, socialise with her own kind. If my back gave me pain in the process, I couldn't afford to pay heed. And indeed, she did relent, but not without her empress demeanour.
She descended from her perch, and was almost ready to kill this little imp when I intervened. I quickly took him into my arms, like a parent would his child to protect him from harm. And sat there as Wasabi stared at us. And I stared back at her, Momlette in tow. We sat like that for who knows how many hours. But I think that's what sent out the message - Momlette was one of us and she better accept him.
She did, eventually. The next morning. She couldn't resist the temptation to play with the ball Momlette was playing with. She couldn't resist chasing this hyperactive little ball of fur, too.
Soon, the dark clouds of potential enmity and rejection dissolved into a little happy trio - two cats and a human.
Soon, the house was resounding with chases, crash and clang of things around.
Soon, Wasabi grew to be the big cat, now more royal in her ways than ever and keeper of all feline dignity I ever witnessed.
Soon, I grew to understand what it takes to be a parent who has to balance and equitably apportion love to all his or her children.
And soon, Momlette, Wasabi and I learned natural harmony comes instinctively - one doesn't have to try hard, or try at all.
