Purr, purr, purr

I'm not a cat person.

I say this not because I hate cats, but because I was not really surrounded by them. One of my aunts took care of a bunch of cats throughout my childhood, but they have mostly died due to old age - one even came back to life, although not really, something like that.

At home we have dogs. Right now we have four: a Labrador who needs a lot of exercise, and three multi-hybrids. (It's a sad state of affairs that even the term askal fell victim to political correctness, or forced patriotism. Aspin just does not have the same ring to it.) In prior years we've had many dogs, all the as-whatever kind: they scampered around while I attempted to play basketball, and barked loudly as I came home, and just one day, you'll see them weaker than usual, and then, they're gone.

But, you know, cats. The domesticated sort, just so we're clear. My aunt did not take care of lions, not that she could. Anyway, whatever breed they are, they seem so classy and refined: the way they trawl the floor, the way they look at you suspiciously, the way they relent when you start patting their head cautiously.

"Ang majestic niyang tignan," I tell Rainy as I watched one of her pet cats. Peach is a Siamese cat, a surprise gift from a neighbor that would later proceed to get so sick to the point of dying. The cat's fine now, though.

The name came from the assumption that the cat is a girl. Rainy would find out, weeks later, that there's a stub in the middle of the hind legs. Peach is a guy.

"Ayaw niyang nagpapahawak," she tells me as I attempt to pat its head, surprisingly successfully.

She has two cats. One is simply named Muning, perhaps because of how she stumbled upon her; the cat just decided to stay in her place. She's a nicer cat. She lets you pat her head. She'd even curl herself around your legs, like she did with mine. The Internet, with its off-the-charts fascination with cats, tells me that it's the cat hugging me - a surprising gesture considering I've only seen Muning once before.

Peach seems to have taken to me too, though. He was meowing at me, and I was meowing at him back.

"Matagal na niyang hindi ginagawa 'yan, ah!" Rainy says to me, before turning to Peach. "Peach?" She's looking for a meow.



I'm not a cat person. Whenever a cat crosses my path while driving - especially when I'm driving alone - I always yell out something along the lines of "please don't deliver me that message!" The last time a cat crossed my path - well, mine and Rainy's - and we didn't pay attention, a truck with no proper license hit the back of my car. Imagine the pain of having to pay for the damages inflicted on you.

But, well, cats are nice, as long as they don't scratch you or anything. Well, that goes to most animals. My dogs, even. I type this with a scratch on my right arm, the result of my excitable Labrador looking for some loving.

And obviously a lot of people find cats nice too. Well, yes, most of the people I know seem to be cat persons (how do you say that without sounding grammatically off?) judging from how my day is unintentionally not complete without someone tweeting a cat photo.

Sure, they love dogs too, but they tend to be of certain ages or breeds. Cats? Cats are everywhere. Cats are on beds, on sofas, on pillows, on stacks of hay, on restaurants where they work as unpaid cuddle slaves, that sort of thing. And always, always, these people say the same six lines.

Soft kitty
Warm kitty
Little bag of fur
Happy kitty
Sleepy kitty
Purr, purr, purr

Always. Always. United under the same belief, that cats will one day rule the world, because aren't they so cute and the world needs cuteness and not all of this war shit and dying shit and we can all die because we are not all cute but cat can't because they always will be but if we die who will call the cats cute?

And your responses...

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