The cat on the front porch

My eyes caught a furry ball darting across the entrance of the flat I was moving into. The sight of a cat crossing my path on the very first day made me wonder if it was an ominous sign of misfortunes to come. The feeling was probably on account of having experienced an eccentric grandmother uttering scary happening's and then following it up with remedies for various maladies caused by strokes of bad luck. I quickly dismissed those thoughts as remnants of superstitions repeated by granny in those days of folklore and mythology.

All of this reminded me of my tryst with sinister creatures, which henceforth I shall refer to as Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind. The reptilian species, arachnids and feline races have crossed my path at different stages in my life. I hold the record for stamping a snake as a small kid, the ignominy of getting scratched by kittens during school days, and the embarrassment of suffering from a painful bite by an unknown creature in my final semester at college. Rest assured, I feel that my fellow species on this planet and I are irrevocably bound and intertwined in this journey of life. Therefore, the presence of this four legged critter was subconsciously accepted.

The cat at the front door had an eerily shiny fur coat. Its body was velvety black, with eyes resembling reflecting glass beads. The feline eyes wore the look of ultimate deception, like a femme fatale enticing her lover into a bond of irresistible desire. The black beauty had an alert pose, ready to make an instantaneous dart, like a cobra with its hood raised, waiting to strike down its enemy in a split second.

I was very much impressed by this creature of nine-lives. And after our initial acquaintance, I believe, she was equally awed by my presence :). Over the next few days, we treated each other like wary adversaries. At first, she would carefully watch me coming towards her, readily waiting to streak across while I would be readying myself for a feline pounce and attack. And then over time she got used to my approaching footsteps and stopped preparing for the final sprint of her first life :) . For my part, I slowly got over the fear of being scratched by yet another feline. I did not want a parable like 'Once scratched, twice shy' coming into use due to me.

Slowly, the cold in our relationship thawed. She became more friendly and I started to relax. On my arrival back from work, she would lead the flight of steps to my third floor abode. At each landing, she would stop and turn around to see if I was still behind her. And finally, she would drop me off at my door and head back to her ground floor resting spot. Once in a while, I would feed her tidbits of edible items. She would inspect the food items with great dignity and consume them only if it was deemed good.

Ever since the time I first met her, she has always remained a regal black feline, unlike her lazy counterparts. She has a way of her own. Going around the neighborhood, like a queen inspecting her subjects. I don't see her very often these days. Once in a while, I spot those shiny green eyes in the dark alley leading to my home and I know she is out there, bewitching yet another admirer.

This part fact-fiction short story, for whatever it is worth, is dedicated to Ruskin Bond, whose works I am presently reading.