King Leo

Meow, I’m Leo, a Maine Coon. From Cochin. Don’t be confused. Just know that I’m a white-brown king living with a brown bloke in a red brick house.

There are two other furballs around. I presume they were brought home before me as an experiment. They are little round Persian cats. Again, from Cochin.

Still confused? I assume you are one of those losers who just giggle and go aww… at our viral videos but don’t bother to look up our history. If so, just get off my story! I don’t want to do anything with someone with zero curiosity.

I’ll give you a moment.

In case you are still here, I’ll give you a glimpse. For, I admire tenacity.

We, the felines, travel across the continents in mysterious ways and capture hearts. All it takes for us to invade is- our moon eyes, baby talk, and a couple of rolls in the bay.

Do you feel jealous already? Ha, I am enjoying this.

Let’s get back to my story.

I told you about the brick house, the bloke, and my fellow felines. We get along with each other just fine. The Persians know they have to wait till I finish slurping the top layer of the food and have to look the other way when I use the litter. They are smart to give me a wide berth. After all, they are the size of my tail. And size matters.

My human knows my value. Of course, he has put an electric blue collar with a tracker around my neck. I’m not talking about that. I’m saying only I have the ability to make him roll on the floor to say ‘I love you’ and mean it. And I am the force that peels him off his gaming chair before his eyes get sucked into the screen. Without me, he would have already become a retired bowling ball.

Life would be too boring if it continues the same way.

Something happens. It makes things more interesting.

A phone call at night sends my fellow howling and rolling on the floor. He then packs a few things and makes another call.

“Trouble at home. Mummy no more. Daddy has to go. You be a good boy!” he whimpers in my ears as I knead his chest.

I slip into my travel cabin without much fuss. The Persians? oh they are chased, cajoled, and tricked into theirs. Soon, we are travelling with a guy who follows the blue line on the screen in front of him and delivers us to the other end of the town.

If you thought we were being taken to attend the funeral, I stand for a minute in silence for you.

 No, you gullible fool! We are delivered to another sweaty, bearded fellow. I see the same gen Y brand of sleep-starved, sunlight-deprived features on him. Yeah, I remember him dropping in a couple of times with his drawstrings tantalizingly dangling in front of him. This is my fellow’s buddy.

He receives and ushers us into his place strewn with washed and unwashed clothes, bowls of human food in various states of decay, a couple of cardboard boxes, and, wait… what is it hiding behind the curtains and biding time to slink away? A brown country cat!

The two Persians rush to make friends with him, only to be growled and pawed at. Serves them right. I take the high sofa by the window which is definitely his and rub my cheek on it. I am the lord of everything I survey; the sooner it is established, the better it will be for everyone.

By afternoon, the country cat is completely alienated and displaced. I don’t know much about history but I have heard it repeats itself if one is not careful. I am talking about animal history. He sulks and plants himself near the gate to show his nerdy human he is not happy to share his place.

The next thing I know, we are shown into an even bigger room that is completely separated from the main house. Looking at its spic and span condition, I bet it’s where the bearded fellow’s parents stay when they visit. But for now, the king bed is all mine. Our host has set up a little plastic fountain in our honour, stacked a carton full of ready-to-serve gourmet food, and placed two brand-new cardboard boxes in the room! Overwhelming hospitality…the hallmark of inferior beings. How these humans never fail to prove me right!

Over the next few days, the bearded guy treats us well. As a reward, I let him hold me in his arms. He loves it coz his shy brown loner isn’t exactly a lap cat. Like most humans, he appreciates what he doesn’t have a little more than what he has.

I enjoy the royal treatment. But miss my human. Hope he is doing okay. It’s been more than a week.

The night is young. I know what is going on in this house, across the walls. My night owl host is clacking away at his keyboard with his headphones clamping his ears. His brown cat is gliding around the mess, alternating between rolling under the bed and staring outside the window. The two Persians are goofing around, pawing each other and purring.

I roll my eyes and look at the wall. I see a shadow! The owner of the shadow doesn’t smell right.

Is that brownie watching him from his window as well? Does he have enough sense to go and head-butt his human?

What do I do? Do I need to do anything? There is this wall between us.

There is a scratchy scratch at the door.

I have to do something. For my claws’ sake. It’s been a while since I put them to good use.

I slide through the window that is cracked open. Jump outside. Lunge at the bent form, dig my claws into his shoulders, and start biting at his neck. He yelps in pain and runs out of the open gate. I yowl.

A few moments later the door bursts open. My host steps out, scoops me up, and coos,

“What happened, Leo? Had a nightmare?” and strolls down to the gate and closes it without raising a brow!

What’s wrong with him? Does he have no instinct? Or at least common sense? A cat having a nightmare at night? Clearly, even the ones who live with us don’t know much about us.

And that smug brown loser! I’m not sure whether he went in and warned his human, but he sure as hell witnessed my heroic act. But true to his character, he doesn’t acknowledge it, let alone appreciate it!

I’m glad to get back to my human a couple of days later. Clearly, he too has missed us. Boy! it does feel good to be back in my kingdom.

Once in a while, I reminisce about the goodbye I received from my bearded host. It was a beautiful sight; tears flowed down his grubby face. Not because of the dust brought by a gust of wind as brownie insinuated, but as he had grown too fond of me.

I don’t blame him. I’m yet to meet a human who is immune to my charm!