Lemon and lime

I was awakened early today by my cat’s persistent meow
outside my bedroom door. I stayed in bed listening to her, but I couldn’t
ignore her plea so I got up and went out, opened the front door to let her out
assuming she just wanted to take a poo. But she just stared outside. I relocked the door and paid no attention to her, went back to
bed to continue gathering myself together before I start my day. She went with
me and meowed at the foot of my bed.

Pepay has been my cat for more than a year now. I took her
as cute kitten. She is not a hybrid or anything, but her difference from the
other ordinary cats is that she is filled with so much love. Like a new baby
coming into a home, she filled mine with so much hope. I remember a friend
telling me, after complaining how lonely I feel in this empty apartment, that I
am not alone. Pepay is here, and she needs me to feed her, to bathe her, to
caress her. When I come home from school just as I enter the gate, she would
pop out of nowhere and wait till I unlock my door, would enter first and sit on
the couch while I unpack my things. She would linger till I finish preparing
her dinner. It’s somehow true, at least she makes me feel important.

While I renounce my own depressed mood, she still stood
there trying to catch my attention. She playfully bit my foot, rubbed herself
in my calf and all but I didn’t budge. In some way, she felt it. This time it
is my need. She jumped into my bunk and for the first time in Pepay’s life, I
let her lie in my bed with me.

In a gloomy Tuesday morning, Pepay and I just lied down
together feeling each other’s presence. Filling into each other’s abandonment.