Meet Fingers, my cat

In cat years she is middle-aged and nearing the turning point into old age. In cat years she is still on her fourth or fifth life. Cats in general have nine lives. So, no matter what her age, it looks as though she will be around for many years to come. This pleases me because she is my best friend. It does not matter whether I’m doing alright or troubled or feeling extremely down-hearted and lonely, she is always there for me.

Where cats in general are concerned, this little creature is unique. I’m not referring to her quirky personality but rather to her uncharacteristic un-catlike behavior. Friends and family have both remarked that this is no ordinary cat. But what do I care? This is happy for me to know.

Old as she may be, she is still my adopted child. She is an orphan. Before she strolled through my front door for the very first time, she had already led a difficult life through no fault of her own. If you see how she quickly warms up to strangers, even during tense moments, you will notice her affinity towards love rather than being typically skeptical. When I first moved into my apartment, Fingers was staying with white folks who made a whole lot of noise.

They seemed like your proverbial rock groupies. Both girl and boy had guitars which neither could play anyhow. They would strum the instruments loudly and pretentiously until late at night. Everyone could hear them. It was bad enough for us, so I could only imagine what it did to the poor creature’s eardrums.

Cats by nature are fussy creatures. Fingers is no different. But this has more to do with being conscientious. At least five times a day, morning, noon and night, she can put me to shame with her cleansing rituals. Meticulous attention to detail is how she could describe herself if she had to go out looking for a job and present prospective employers with her resume.

So, when I saw the state of this guitar-strumming folks’ apartment, my heart would often grow sore for this poor cat. Not that you even needed to be anywhere their front door. All you needed to see was the garbage lying about outside. And the smell! It was appalling. We girls like to gossip, but talking about our white trash neighbors did not convey any feelings of guilt about this unusual couple and was actually quite apt if you don’t mind me saying so.

Thankfully, the day soon came when they had to leave. No-one knows whether they were evicted or they just left on account of the high rent that we are still lamenting over. No-one knows whether they simply abandoned the poor kitten or the animal hid away deliberately so that she could set off on her dangerous quest to find a suitable new home.

The goddess of cats must have been smiling when little Fingers walked through my front door. I didn’t exactly invite her in. That day I think I was my usual tentative self, but was feeling quite sorry for the cat in more ways than one. Needless to say, she was as hungry as a dog and could have eaten a horse that day. Today, she takes good care of her health, drinking copious amounts of water from her water bowl and taking a nibble or two from her biscuit tray every now and then. I spoke to the vet about her pickiness but she assured me that this was quite good for her.


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