PART 2 OF "LIVING WITH HARMLESS ANIMALS, OTHER THAN PESTS"


PART 2 OF LIVE WITH HARMLESS ANIMALS OTHER THAN PETS

One day, we went outstation, 200 miles away, having driven the kitten out, and locking the house. Sameday evening, I received a call from my neighbours that the kitten is making wailing sounds in the rear room of my house. They said that it was not coming out in spite of their best efforts. Then I recalled, that the kitten might have entered the rear room through the kitchen window which was left open as a vent in case of LPG leakage from the kitchen gas cylinder. I had to close my camp prematurely and return back. I was afraid that the kitten would soil the beds.

When we returned, I found that the kitten was very much inside. It had soiled the beds. I had to clean the beds. Still, I could not dare to beat the kitten. I consoled myself: "Poor creature! It does not know what is good and what is bad." I called the carpenter and got the kitchen window fixed with a dense wire mesh to prevent entry of cats.

The kitten persisted in sleeping in the wooden rack, though I did not give it any milk and entered the rear room whenever the the door was open. One winter night, when I got to up to go to toilets, I found the kitten shivering in the rack. It was suffering from fever. It appeared that my time had come to change into a pet keeper. I filled a small stainless plate with warm milk and kept it before it dutifully. It slowly sipped the milk and slept for the remaining night.

Next day, my wife ridiculed my act of keeping the milk plate in the furniture rack before the kitten and calling it "Taagu! Taagu (drink! drink!)".

She argued: "I heard all your dialogues to the kitten. Now, that fellow will never leave. Get an additional packet of milk everyday and pay the bill."

I convinced her: "It is sick. The moment it is well, it will go away. It will not go away, even if we pray it to stay."

The kitten was allowing me to lay my hand on it and gently pat it. It was not allowing my wife to lay her hands. My wife got irritated and commented:

"It is your aunt. Hence she is allowing you to lay your hands on her. Even when she was alive, she did not like me. She never invited me to her house. Now she has come to my house and I have to supply it milk."

My wife was 100% convinced that she was my paternal aunt, reborn to receive service from me. I did not believe this rebirth theory, preferred to remain silent, as I did not want to enter into an exchange.

My wife started joking: "Now, your second wife has come to replace me. Probably, I may have to leave my home, to enable both of you live happily."

My reply: "OK! If that be the God's will, let it be. How can I change it?"

Her predictions proved to be true. The kitten started climbing to my neck from behind. It started to jump into my lap and watch TV. When I went upstairs, it ran ahead of me and invited me up. While all this was fun to my wife, I could not concentrate on my studies. The kitten proved to be an embarrassment to me in the presence of my visitors, it started climbing to my neck or jumping into my lap or sitting on the computer keyboard to prevent me from working.

One friend laughted at me and said:

"Earlier you were hating animals. Now you have become a pet keeper. You will end up as JADA BHARATA. "

I : "Who is Jada Bharata?"

Friend: "Jada Bharata was a sage who was infatuated to a deer. He abandoned his duties of a sage and was obsessed with his pet deer. At the time of his death he was thinking about the safety of his deer. In his next birth, he was born as a deer. Now you have left your job. You have left your studies. All the time you are spending on this kitten pampering it to climb to your neck or jump into your lap. You while away all your days cajoling this kitten to sip milk and lie down on the couch calling "Bajjoo! Babboo! Bajjoo! Bujjii! (appeals to the kitten). When you die you will be reborn as a cat! Beware!"

I: "I do not believe in rebirths. Anyway, where did you read about Jada Bharata? You have a habit of freightening people telling nasty stories."

(To continue)
YETURU BHASKAR, GUNTUR, INDIA.

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