Updated: Nov 13, 2021
Once upon a time there was a cat named Cupcake. He used to roam around my compound- a honey-coloured ball of fluff, dragging his tail while he hunted for food with his needle sharp claws. It was the time when the sun was like fire under the kettle, slowly boiling all the surroundings. The cat followed me as I put the trash out in the bin, and blocked my way as he laid down on our stairs. The cat’s orange eyes were a doorway to his love, begging me not to leave him alone and suggested a yearning for affection. After we rescued him, his eyes hypnotized us: looking into his eyes was like staring into a deep chasm. The beginning of this journey was as uncertain as the stairway to heaven.
When we first met Cupcake, his fur was as raggedy as weed growing on grass. It was a road with no direction, overgrown, and bumpy here and there. There were some parts of his body that didn’t have fur- instead, it was covered with red bumps, probably from bug bites from living out in the open for so long. During the pandemic, where staying at home felt like a prison, he knew he had to be helped and we were the ones who could help him.
As Cupcake healed, he explored the house as a lion hunts his prey, cautious yet curious to open Pandora’s box. His meow was like a soulful song. What made the relationship between him and I so special was that it was like the communication between a mother and her baby, where we both were speaking in different languages but could understand one another.
Cupcake was also so affectionate: whether it was taking