A Second Chance

Enjoying Her Afternoon Siesta

Hide…Crouch…Lunge….Slap. It’s a bright sunny day, and I sit watching Minnie at play with a tiny grey earwig. Her little body is tense with excitement, whiskers twitching, tail swishing, eyes burning bright. A happy little cat like any other, except that Minnie is differently abled. She is bow legged and has a crooked back. On most days her body is racked with pain which makes her cry piteously.

Minnie is a two year old grey and white cat. Her journey with me from day one has been an adventure, filled with twists and turns, some happy, others painful. This is her story.

On a cold November afternoon in 2007 Minnie a tiny wriggling mass came into my life with her two brothers. Her mother, a tabby, was flighty to the extreme. So after attending to her maternal duties in a perfunctory manner for about 2 weeks she abdicated. It was left to me to play surrogate mum to the kittens.

I named them Minnie, Mickey and Buddha. Minnie was the outgoing one. Mickey, a grey tiger, had a voracious appetite. Buddha the pensive one lived on love, air and little else. In the early days their diet comprised mainlyof lactose free milk, which they sucked greedily from a filler.

Play time was totally monopolized by Minnie. She was a gymnast at heart. We watched her breathtaking back flips, jumps and double loops along with other awe inspiring airborne tactics. She also liked to play mother to her two younger siblings. She took it upon herself to give her brothers a thorough wash after each meal. Any rebellion on their part was met with a quick cuff on their ears.

Buddha, the thoughtful one, contracted a viral infection and died in his infancy. That came as a terrible blow to Minnie because he was her pet brother. For days she moped and mewed for him.

As the days went by, Minnie’s and Mickey’s personalities began to change. Mickey became the typical aggressive male cat while Minnie was the docile, lovable little girl. Mickey enjoyed pushing Minnie around and bullying her at every given opportunity.

One day when they were about 4 months old I saw them engaged in a furious tug of war with a discarded piece of cloth on our balcony. I left them to their game and went inside for a couple of minutes. When I returned I found Minnie missing and Mickey looking nonchalantly around. I searched for her every where but could not find her. With a sense of growing panic I finally looked over the balcony railing.

  Minnie aged 7 years.

I found her lying comatose on her side on the ground floor. I rushed downstairs absolutely panic stricken. She was breathing but was in terrible pain. I discovered that she had broken one of her front and back legs. Days of therapy and loving care followed. In the end Minnie pulled through. But she was left with a crooked back and bow legs.

Through injury, infections and pain Minnie has always emerged a victor and has become my best friend. As I write this piece, Minnie lies fast asleep on my lap a happy and contented 2 year old.