Wednesday, September 23, 2009


I HAVE THIS LITTLE WHITE FURRY KITTEN named Jerry that likes to think that we belong to the same species but different generations. I guess it is because she thinks that fur falls off with age. Sometimes I am also tempted to think the same except that in the
kidney of my memory is an eternally etched Darwin ’s theory. The theory suggests that the closest furred relatives I could have are the little thieving monkeys at the gate of Lake Nakuru National Park whose males’ leisure time is spent painting a certain part of their
anatomy blue. (Please do yourself a favour this weekend and visit our distant cousins in the name of domestic tourism. Be sure to close your car windows because these cousins cannot keep their little dirty fingers off your stuff).

From the way she looks at me, I know she wouldn’t like to go beyond a certain age where she might start to resemble me. I have come to this conclusion because every minute she is awake; she spends it grooming her fur. She starts with her paws, which she later uses on her face and then the rest of her body. Very special attention is given to the tail and whiskers.

Recently, I thought of helping her groom herself even better by being able to see the results of her grooming, especially the face. I did so by buying her a mirror and placing it on her favourite sofa. I wanted to surprise her, so I placed the mirror on the sofa when she was sleeping.

When she woke up and saw the other kitten on the mirror, she started attacking by clawing at the image with the result of her claws hurting. The thing that drives her completely berserk is that when she peers behind the mirror, she sees nothing and goes back to clawing the mirror. I have decided to leave the mirror in its position until she understands reflection. This could teach her that though we’ve been flocking together, we are not of the same feather.

Even though she is taking too long to understand reflection, she is still my best companion. First, she doesn’t interrupt me when I am watching my favourite soap opera and second, she doesn’t ask questions. But she recently earned me a permanent enemy in a certain lady friend of mine. I had invited my friend with her boyfriend for dinner. (I invite different people to convince my self that I still got some culinary art in my system). It hadn’t been my intention to invite both of them but my friend is the kind who, when you are her boyfriend, you separate only when you are going to work.

They arrived on time and we were having a swell time with a delicious meal when Jerry, feeling left out, thought it was time for some mischief. Being acquainted with my friend, she climbed onto the sofa and wanting to surprise her, (if that is what they call it in cat language) she jumped onto her head. Before she could even hold it, Jerry was sliding with her wig down her back and bang on to the sofa. As if that was not enough, she playfully dragged her ‘catch’ under the seats. As most of you have guessed by now, my friend was not wearing a wig over relaxed hair. She dashed out of the house leaving behind an amused boyfriend. I understand she has moved house and changed her cell phone number!

I am still wondering what to do with Jerry. She doesn’t seem to understand that she should at least retrieve the wig from under the seats. Since there are a few days to the weekend, the wig can be gathering dust. In the meantime, I am looking for a person who can tell Jerry (who happens to be acting as though nothing happened) in a language that she understands that I am aggrieved by her actions. Anyone there?