A ROOMMATE I LOVE TO HATE
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 paw...