I remembered when she came to the family. She was tiny, and her brother was tiny too. She didn't look too healthy and so did her brother. Their mum was quite tired having babies, I think. She had grey-white coat. Her brother was all grey. They were twins, but they didn't look alike at all.
We thought they would grow as big as their uncles and dad. Apparently no. They remained tiny and slim. The tiny generation of the family. Reminds me of myself. The youngest and smallest of the pack. Then, the brother had a new home.
She then lived her days with her mum, dad and a step-brother. Mum then ran away. Possibly because the dude next door was more attractive. And possibly because the dude next door wanted to give her pleasure, unlike dad who was more obsessed with food now more than anything.
The half twin didn't socialise much. She was a loner, from when she was still a kitten. She didn't like the other so much. I don't understand why. Maybe that's just the way she was. She would let me touch and stroke her. And she liked when I rubbed her belly. But sometimes, she didn't want anyone to get close to her. I decided that I loved her in a peculiar way, more distanced than the two boys. But I loved her still.
She then was set up on a date by my parents, a thing that I tried to avoid. I didn't want her to have kittens. There are too many strays in this world. We don't need more kittens. But anyway, it happened. Their devious plan worked since I was away for more than two weeks from home. She was pregnant and I couldn't do anything about it.
Came the kittens, two tiny golden bundle of joy. Despite my disapproval, I fell in love instantly with them. I hand-fed her when she couldn't get up because she was too scared to leave her newborns. I stayed with her for hours when she was nursing her babies, just making sure that she was fine. I knew I loved her and her babies.
After a while, like any mum cats, she distanced herself from her babies. And then she grew more aloof. She didn't want to eat. She was never a big eater from the first place. But she was even more reluctant then. I tried giving different food. It didn't work. She just didn't want to eat. Several different trips to the vet didn't do much. She still didn't gain any weight.
One morning I found her breathing heavily, with saliva around her mouth. I knew something was terribly wrong and I dreaded for the worst. I rushed her to a clinic and the vet said they would have to keep her there. OK, I said and I stroked her head before I left the clinic. When I came to see her, they said she was doing a bit better and for a cat infected by distemper, she was fighting hard. And I was glad, but sad at the same time because I knew she must have been in pain.
And then one night I got a call from the clinic. Night calls never bring you good news. I was told that she wasn't doing fine. And I knew I was going to lose her. And she passed an hour after I got the call. And I felt a bit of me died too. It hurt quite a lot.
I'm still a bit scared that the others might get sick too. But I guess worrying too much will not do anyone good. So, I'm hoping for the best (while making all the cats eat vitamins all the time) and if there's a special place to go when you die, I hope there's one too for all the cats in the world. I hope she is there too. Though, you have a special place in my heart and mind. I love you Tingting. And I miss you already.
