From the start I will say this: you do not want to read this story. Walk away. Back off.. Slowly. It's a sad story. It's a personal story. No-one likes those. You will cry your heart out, and you won't be able to help yourself so you'll come back for more. And then you'll cry some more, etc.. A warned person counts for two, as we say in our country. It's not a very good saying.
"Wolf-pup, wolf-pup! Wolf-pup!" 'Wolf-pup' she cried. A spirit made from atoms and flesh and blood called for me. "Wolf-pup!" I melted and thus became puddle. And this is how it went. Day in, and day out. "Wolf-pup!" and then puddle. A wolf-pup puddle. Much like the cycles of rain and river.
I saw her leave with my wolf-pup eyes. Big, sweet eyes if I do say so myself. Not my real eyes though; seeing her go. In reality we said goodbye in an over-full train. Nothing like an intimate goodbye in front of lots of strangers. And it was a tough crowd to begin with because half of these people got their skin scraped off their elbows when we tried to squeeze coffers the size of Titanics through the isle in between them.
Sorry. Stay on course. "Wolf-pup!" I hear in the distance.
I met her in civilization. She was prowling by herself, but she's really a bit too wild to be prowling all by herself. A little feral kitten. It's good that I found her. No telling what manner of things she might have clawed open. And some things claw back. "Better she claw on me," I thought. "I'll wear my gloves. It will be fine."
And that was that. From then on we went on droll adventures together. Panther-kitten and wolf-pup. It has a ring to it, doesn't it. Oh, we didn't have a care in the world.
We would play in the rain and catch terrible diseases. We would hunt for baking plates and torture them with terrible heat. We would do nothing at all as well. As is the custom with cats. Which is also nice.
Her parents disapproved though. Her mother would say things like: "But dear, he looks so.. look at him biting at the fleas that try to flee his back." Just as I turned my big puppy eyes in fascination on no-where at all, and my feet failing to bring me there would get all knotted up, toppling me over with my head hitting the ground. Her father would just grunt at this spectacle. And I understand. Who would want such a scruffy dog for their daughter, let alone to let it into the house and have it sit on your couch in the weekend; reeking of fermented apple and potato peel, and with such sticky fur.
But panther-kitten didn't care. So she was. Panther-kitten just wanted to play. She would bring me back from my pensive studies of ethereal and abstract subjects like ethical canine conduct and game-migration-patterns and showed me how to feel the earth with my paws. Breaking my fogged-over eyes with the act of a single purr.
However.. you can feel it, can't you dear reader. The storm is slowly rising in this story. It can't be fair weather for ever. Such is the way of the world you know. And perhaps we all pine for it deep in our hearts. The sweet pain of change. But that does not make it hurt less.
Panther-kitten needed to go. Her own kind screamed out for her, and I couldn't be selfish. Everybody needs panther-kitten. So it goes. And so she went. Back to panther-land. But one day, quick inshallah, I will visit panther-land too!
I still check her Tumblr you know. And when I do, it's nuts I know, I can hear her her say: "Come here wolf-pup!". And then I get all embarrassed and say: "Aw shucks" .
This claim: "We would do nothing at all as well. As is the custom with cats." is misleading because it is you who always insists proper bungalow time be all the time! I willingly oblige because bungalow is indeed very agreeable to the feline-lifestyle, but as the .gif shows, we've got energy while you laze about with one eye open. All the same, I love you loads my wolf pup. Happy Birthday darling, I love you very, very, very much. (And we're singin', we're singin'!)