It has become our routine. At a very specific time each day, he will be there… waiting.
And I, like a very suspicious housewife, will conveniently “need to go downstairs.”
“Buy what?”
“Just something small.”
What “small thing”… nobody has ever seen.
Then that fateful day, I came back from my friend’s house. She went on holiday and asked me to pet sit her cats. Three cats. Very affectionate type. The kind that don’t believe in personal space. Sit on lap. Climb on shoulder. Rub all over you like you are some moving scratching post.
I didn’t do anything wrong ok. They came to me.
Anyway, I reached home… and there he was. Sitting on his treehouse like usual. Waiting.
So naturally, I walked over and stretched out my hand to pet him. He leaned forward. Smelled my hand. Paused.
Then suddenly— His eyes opened wide. And he hissed.
I froze. “Huh??”
For a moment, I was confused. Then slowly… it dawned on me. Oh no. The smell.
To him, I am no longer “the neighbour.” I am now… “The one who went to cheat with other cats.”
Since that day, everything changed. He still sits at the treehouse. But the moment I go near… He hiss. Turn. Run inside.
Like I am some untrustworthy person.
Honestly ah… very unfair. I didn’t bring any cat home. I didn’t even hug them for long.
They are the ones who came to sit on me.
I just… accepted fate, but try explaining that… to a cat.
1st July
