You were spotted on a bustling highway.
Tiny, ugly, tailless and terrified.
Your little body trembling with fear, a strong urine stench was emitting from your body.
A week later. I woke up to you snuggling in my bed; pillow to be exact, securely, warmly.
Since then new house laws were enforced.
My bed was your bed. I was your mother. I was your favourite human who provides you unlimited food and endless playtime.
You then befriended Twelve and Monkey.
Three of you shared a bed, a blanket, a bowl of water.
But not their food.
You, however, welcomed them to enjoy your bowl of kibbles generously.
My first thought was: what a loving cat.
In hindsight, you probably thought: The human will refill my bowl with fresh kibbles. Two of you can have my leftovers.
You were named Goku for two reasons; too vigorous as a kitten and for a long time I believed you were immortal, just like the manga character.
4 months later we moved.
You grew into a rebellious teenager. Longed for a taste of freedom and the outside world.
Your free and wild spirit wouldn’t keep you home. You broke the mosquito net and habitually left house for wildlife adventure.
Once you didn’t return for one and a half day.
Your picture was up. I canvassed the neighbourhood and called for you.
Nothing.
I thought you were gone for good. You craze for freedom after all.
The second night you returned meowing for food and water and snuggles. I performed a dramatic scene.
I believed you understood my performance, because ever since, you never once spent another night out.
You always come home.
Your freedom didn’t come free. It came with three cat bells.
When the three cat bells jangling they played as a smoothing refrain.They became my lullaby that reassured that you were around, healthily, happily.
And it calmed my anxious heart.
You. My lizard catcher. My life saviour.
My whole life, the relationship between the lizards and me have been fiery.
Shrieking, bouncing, yelling when there’s one.
You appeared to protect me from them.
I felt safe under your surveillance.
Despite some odd days you instinctively showed appreciation by bringing one to bed, at two in the morning, your appreciation is very much appreciated.
But now my lizard catcher is gone.
The walls creaked the night you left.
Lizards paraded in the house, hissed loudly, as if they were celebrating victory their biggest enemy, my lizard catcher has gone forever.
I loathed them for that.
Over the past one month, home has become something else.
It feels empty without your surveillance.
Soundless without your bells jangling.
The bed and pillow feel naked.
The air smells bitter and heavy and icy.
My body and imagination have gone riot.
Every insect I see around the house I suspect that is you come back to pay a visit.
Then my lungs behaving strange. Like a puntured balloon that will never reach a full measure of oxygen.
My heart feels like its sinking one inch deeper into a dark abyss each time I think of you.
A few times the baby at next house cries and I mistaken that is you that came home meowing for me.
Only to be reminded you are gone.
And I feel abandoned.
The day I planted your ashes in the white Morning Glory.
A butterfly dropped by.
Watching me place your Morning Glory on your favourite, regular spot near the gate, carefully, peacefully.
Now whenever my hearts sinks one inch deeper.
I step out of the house and stare at you; your white Morning Glory.
And I see you: your obstinacy, your haughtiness, your delicacy.
Your White Morning Glory, it’s growing free and it’s growing wild.
Just like you.
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