My cat deserted me, and I was so unamused. I got the cat at the tender age of three months, and I loved him with all my heart. I fed him each time he woke up, read about his mannerisms, played with him to keep the boredom away, and tried to make him feel at home. I even gave him a name, Niyo, and it grew on him. Niyo, the cat, would meow in the middle of the night, and I, Stella Tush, a big lover of sleep, would wake up to feed him. He had a neck collar, was immunised, and ate the best cat food on the market. Niyo was my cuddle buddy after a long day at the office and was my little friend. I purchased several ‘luxury’ or comfort things, including a cat hairbrush, so he did not have to necessarily brush himself against objects for comfort. When I had to travel for my wedding, my heart was downcast because I had to leave him behind. I texted my friend and cat-sitter every so often and even sent upkeep for my fur baby. We were friends, or so I thought, but I saw early signs of heartbreak because when I dropped him at my friend’s place, he forgot about me as soon as he met Blu, my friend’s cat. A few months later, Niyo changed. He meowed more than usual, found playmates outside the house so he would only come for meals and lodging, and became very picky with food. He wasn’t the tiny, cuddly thing I once knew. One evening, while I went out with my hubby for a walk, the cat followed us out of the gate. He possibly lost his way home or simply decided he needed a break from routine. Little Niyo didn’t return home. For the days he went missing, I would be sleeping, and I’d imagine his meows coming up the stairs back to the house but would later realise that it was all imagination. My heart grew anxious. I assumed the worst every hour, and since I live by the road, I quickly concluded that the cat had been knocked by a speeding car. They can only run so fast, right? When it rained, I would say a small prayer so that my cat is not showered upon because we all (might) know how much cats dislike water. I would picture Niyo miserable and cold, shivering from the rains, and then ask God to shelter the cat. Two weeks later, after moving on from his disappearance and almost selling his food, the guy (Niyo) randomly showed up one morning. While in the parking lot before heading to work, he appeared out of nowhere and started meowing at us in anger. He had the hunger of eight and a half cats! I was relieved to see him, and I ensured that he was as comfortable as possible. The central assumption was that he got a girlfriend, went to stay with her for a while, then suddenly she couldn’t take his drama anymore, so she kicked him out. It was a good story, until he disappeared yet again just two-three weeks later. I was livid! What an ungrateful creature! After I renewed my pampering for him so that the house felt like home, he dared to break my heart yet again! We loved him like our own, my husband and I. And he had FOMO, this cat. We’d be seated on the sofa watching a movie, and he’d come to curl next to us because he felt entitled, like a valid family member. During this second disappearance, my pain transformed into anger. I finally understood why people call cats unloyal. I was so upset that I told our caretaker that he could have Niyo if he spotted him again. I will not be used as a temporary bed and breakfast. Nowadays, I constantly find myself venting to random people. Last week I was relieved to learn that it is not just me when two of my colleagues told me their cats treated them similarly. I now agree that cats are not pets but functional domestic animals created to eat rats and bugs. They have no emotions and will undoubtedly drag yours to the floor and play with them. I might try dogs next because I’ve been informed that the dog’s chances of running away from your home are meagre. They’re sensible, lovable, and loyal. I am officially closing the door on cats and their little tricks. Are you reading this as a cat owner? Come by and pick up the cat food that I bought in bulk. I have dropped the mic on these furry creatures.
