Snippets from Scaredy Cat's memory

Scaredy Cat. Not my name lah. Actually, don't bother to give me any name. Mao Mao, Meow Meow... You can call all you like. I will respond when I feel like it, hope that's ok with you? 

ACTUALLY, that's not my name. But my mistress likes to call me that, and pronounce it Scare-Re-Dy. Oh well, what's in a name. And just because I howled a little when a group of humans entered the house. I fled to the toilet because... well... I'm not sure why. It's instinct I guess.

Tell you the truth, I'm not comfortable with strangers these days. It comes with age I guess. I am now over a year old. Grown up.  I used to be fearless. For example, when I was about eight months old, I walked into this house like it's my "grand chogong's house" -- grandfather's house. And that's how I got adopted.

Before that, I don't really have much memory. Cat's memory is selective, in case you don't know. Anyway, my new master always thought I had strayed from a loving Malay family -- because I seemed to respond to words like "tidor" (sleep). My new master is a Cantonese and tried talking to me in this dialect. Er, not really my language.

Watching a video of myself at my former master's place.

I loved to jump around, take walks and chase birds -- and still do. One day, I was over enthusiastic about a couple of mynahs chirping at the window's ledge. And fell from the 10th floor, landing on the 5th floor's parapet. I dug my claws on to the concrete to prevent myself from falling further. I heard my master calling me from the window as he hurried away to get help. His neighbour from the 3rd floor lowered down a cat bag -- with some tidbits in it. Ah food, never refuse a good offer. And before I knew it, I was pulled up to safety, with a bit of cat food stuck on to my whiskers. They were kind enough to let me finish the last morsel. I was a little subdued over the experience. The next morning, I limped around a bit to get more sympathy. But soon, the whole episode was pushed to a far corner in my little cat brain.

Hark, who calls?

I was having a great time. Meowing in excitement over nothing, and jumping around furniture. I loved to play with my master's mouse and push my long tail in his face at the computer. That's when I got sent off to my current mistress' home. She's the sister. I protested like mad in her car -- all the way to my new home. I even hyperventilated. She kept telling me to "tidor". But I am afraid I don't know what that means. I yowled the whole night. The next morning, I was taken to the vet for a minor op. I vaguely heard the vet asking my mistress whether I was going to be a "kept" cat. If not, I would have one of my ears snipped at the tip. I heard the reply, something like "I guess so..."

It was over before I knew it. My new mistress took me home in the afternoon. I was too sleepy to protest over another car ride.

So now I live in an "apartment" -- not telling you whether it is a private apartment or HDB -- for good reasons. I continue to jump around but these days, I seldom come in contact with strangers, nor those birds which I love to chase so much. Sure, there were lots of things to chase on the floor -- crackling and rustling look-alike birds, mice, fish, and balls with tails. I like the balls with tails best. They are light and can be flung around to hit furniture legs.

BTW, I like doing this in the middle of the night, and in the early morning. If I am really irritating enough, I get tidbits to keep me quiet. But I learnt that if I do it too much, especially in the wee hours of the night, my toys get confiscated. So, you know, best not to push your luck too much.

Don't disturb, please.