Fatboy turns 9
The truth is, I never thought I was a cat person. We had dogs growing up, I hardly ever played with a stray cat and no relatives or friends of my parents had cats. As far as I remembered, cats belonged on the street and no one had them as pets. I lived under this impression till I was 17, the year I enrolled in design school and met a whole different world of people. At 18, my family’s pet dog, Westie, passed away. Some time later, one of my friend’s cat gave birth to a litter and I jokingly said I wanted to adopt one. Fast forward three weeks and she told me I could drop by her place to choose a kitten. I was both horrified and nervous because 1. I really was joking and 2. my mom would kill me if I brought a kitten home. I called my mom in between classes and she firmly said “No.”. My mom can be pretty monosyllabic over the phone. And not a big animal lover. If I make her out to sound like a cold person, she’s not! She shows her affection in different ways.
So it must have been because I was 18 and ‘rebellious’, or so I choose to recall, I went ahead anyway. I went to choose a kitten! There were 6 or 7 kittens altogether, some sleeping together, others roaming around the legs of chairs. Fatboy wasn’t my first pick. Surprise, surprise! My heart fluttered for one of the sleepy kittens, it had a full white coat of fur. It looked so pretty and pure. But my friend who accompanied me pointed out this kitten that was walking around and had a white mark on its forehead. It looked like a curious kid wanting to venture away from the pack. I can’t say for sure how I decided to take this curious creature home. Either I didn’t want to wake the sleeping kitten or I subconsciously knew a ‘pretty and pure’ animal wasn’t for me.
4 weeks old, prancing around in my bedroom
I’ve always joked among my friends that ‘I was a teenage mom when I had Fatboy’. I bought his food and paid for his visits to the vet. We slept together every single night. I take a gajillion photos of him. And while he was a kitten and drinking milk, I had to rush home from school everyday to a screaming kitten begging for milk! Sure sounds like I didn’t have the support of my folks but they by and large leave me alone unless I ask for help. My pop has gone as far as calling me ‘Hermit’ at one point.
I clearly remember the day I could afford cat food better than Whiskas after I started working. What a milestone that was. The growing years were hectic. Learning more and more about living with a cat each day – pre-Google days. The first time Fatboy hissed at me, my heart broke into a million pieces!
5 weeks old, learning to climb the stairs
8 weeks old, introducing solids to his diet
10 weeks old
3 months old
Turned one!
Two years old
Three and always hanging outside. Every night, he would wait under a lamp post for me to return home from work
Five years old and one of the turning points when he became my rock to lean on when life got complicated sometimes
Six years old and the two of us had moved four times by then
Seven years old with Ada in this picture
Eight years old and being my little buddy boy. He still has his curious nature about him till this very day. Always checking out every corner, any new thing in the house, or new person dropping in, doing his rounds which earned him the nickname “security guard”.
Between Ben and I, I always say Fatboy is my #1 and Ben has to be #1.5. I don’t know how that sounds to you but it’s how I feel. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’m so thankful to be able to spend most of my days with him at home. Because he really does the funniest things sometimes and I don’t want to miss it. And if there’s one thing he has taught me, is to look up. Because this cat is always looking up and making me wonder what’s up there. (Not a lizard if that came to your mind!).
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