Friday, January 9, 2009
I Remember
I remember the day I took her in. Three weeks ago on a warm December night, I heard her feeble cries on my neighbour's lawn. I remember bugging my dad to allow me to keep her for the time being. And he agreed.
I remember gently picking her up with trembling hands and placing her carefully in a shoebox. She continued to wail loudly while she sniffed around the shoebox.
I remember the excitement and elation that flooded me as I stroke the tiny cotton ball look-alike kitten. And how I felt the need to protect this fragile and delicate thing and nurse her back to health.
I remember feeding her with my inexperienced hands. How I would have to pacify her into opening her mouth whenver she refused to drink; How I would have to use a tiny spoon to painstakingly pour drops of milk into her tiny little mouth.
I remember how she wouldn't stop crying in the beginning despite any attempts to comfort her. I would touch her little pink nose, allowing her to sniff at my fingers to get used to my scent.
I remember the way she tucked her head into a corner of the shoebox while she drifted off to sleep. I soon came to know that it was her favourite sleeping position.
I remember how my brother and I would disturb her while she was taking an afternoon nap; How we would tickle her ears just to see them twitch in protest.
I remember how she would wail incessantly as she tried to escape from the shoebox; Clawing desperately at the sides till she tipped over the box. She would then cease crying, sniff around curiously and would invariably end up falling asleep in my brother's slippers.
I remember how much she enjoyed being tickled. The way she would flop over and lay on her back while I stroke her stomach; The way her hind legs stretched and bucked as if she was enjoying it immensely.
I remember her chasing after my mom's painted toe nails. How her eyes huge black eyes would stare fixedly at those red-coloured nails, never letting them out of her sight while she lunged suddenly at them.
I remember cleaning her up with a piece of cloth; The way she would shut her eyes tightly while I dabbed away at her face; The way she would stare accusingly at me after that.
I remember placing her tiny little paws on my fingers; How pink and cold her pads had felt against my skin.
I remember how tiny she looked; The way her entire body fitted easily into my palm. The way she looked like a little white rat with a long black tail when she curled up to sleep.
I remember how much she loved it when I stroke her head and behind her ears; How her eyes would slowly close; How soft her fur had felt.
I remember putting her on my lap while I cuddled her. And how she would lay contentedly while she licked and gently gnawed at my fingers.
I remember feeding her with the nursing bottle. The cute way she would mew and the way she would stand on her hind legs as she sucked away urgently.
I remember holding her up and gently patting her back after feeding. How she would either cling on tightly to my fingers or squirm to be freed.
I remember how she would come to me when I clapped my hands. She would walk unsteadily towards my outstretched hand and stopped as if expected to be rewarded with a pet.
I remember tucking her in every night. How I would watch her little tummy's rhythmic rising and falling to ensure that she has fallen asleep, before heading off to bed myself.
I remember feeling irritated whenever she peed or pooed. How I would chide her as I clean her up.
I remember not spending enough time with her as I busied myself with school activites. And how much I regretted it now.
I remember.. I remember..
I remember burying her yesterday.
I remember waking up to feed her in the morning as I always do.
I remember petting her head to wake her up, and how she did not respond.
I remember how unnaturally stiff her body had felt as I touched her usually warm and soft stomach.
I remember the way she looked when I realised that she had slipped away into the night; Her mouth slightly agape and her eyes closed.
As if she was still fast asleep.
I remember my mom wrapping her in the cloth that I used to clean her with and buried her outside our house.
I remember sobbing uncontrollably as I watched her being buried from afar.
I remember how I couldn't accept the fact that she was gone just like that.
How wrong it had felt to cover her up in soil, how it would dirty her body when I was always trying to keep her clean.
How weird it had felt to know that she is now lying in the ground when just a few hours ago she was still in the shoebox.
I remember feeling so empty and broken after the burial.
I remember so so much, though it has just been a short three weeks.
I remember the day I took her in.
And the impact that she had made in my life
I love you so much Cotton
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