My love for cats began in my childhood, back when I was growing up in a kampung. Cats were always part of the scenery—roaming freely, lounging in the sun, and weaving their way into our lives.
I suppose that’s where it all started: with the quiet understanding that cats weren’t just animals, they were companions. Even after we moved into a flat, my connection with cats only deepened. I found four kittens abandoned, helpless, and barely old enough to survive on their own. Without a second thought, I brought them home.
My parents were horrified at first (you should’ve seen their faces!), but eventually, they gave in. I named the little ones Ali, Blackie, Whity, and Rascal. Soon enough, the house belonged to them just as much as it did to us. They’d sleep on my bed, and when I was at work, they would retreat under it—emerging only to eat or use the toilet.
But as soon as I was on my way home, they somehow knew. My father used to joke with the family: "Want to know if she's on her way back? Just watch the cats." Like clockwork, they'd emerge from their hiding spots and gather at the door, tails high, eyes focused—awaiting my return. On my days off, we had our own version of soccer using a crumpled newspaper ball. The flat would turn into a mini football field with furballs chasing after the ball, sliding on tiles, and causing joyful chaos.
Those moments are etched deep in my heart my little squad of four bringing laughter, comfort, and companionship in the purest form. But as life goes, joy sometimes walks hand in hand with heartbreak. Blackie and Rascal went missing during a house renovation they left and never returned.
Whity, my brave climber, used to sleep on the window grills. One tragic day, she fell from the 17th floor. Ali, the last to go, passed away from illness. After losing all four, the grief was overwhelming. I made a quiet promise to myself: no more cats. The pain of losing them was just too much. But as any true cat lover knows… cats have a way of finding you again.
And so, here I am years later starting a new chapter as a cat sitter, reconnecting with that part of myself that never really went away.
This is where the memories live, the whiskers twitch, and the love for cats continues—one paw at a time. 🐾
To Ali, Blackie, Whity, and Rascal — thanks for the headbutts, the chaos, and for turning me into the cat-tastic human I am today. You were the real MVPs of my childhood. 🐾
