The Cat Who Chose Me

Chapter 9: The Visitor Who Stayed

It was the eighth day. Mitti had slept on my chest for the first night on Day 7, purring. Grrr... Grrr... That sound was still in my ears when I woke up. Outside, the fog was less. Not gone, but less. For the first time in ten days, I could see the other side of the street clearly. The sun was thin, yellow, weak, but it was trying to give some warmth to Multan.

Mitti was not at my feet. She was not near my pillow. She was still on my chest. She had slept there all night. When I moved a little, she opened her one good eye, the left one which was almost fully open now. Right eye still half closed from infection, but better. She didn't sneeze for two hours. That was progress. Turmeric milk was working. Love was working more.

Ammi came with two cups of chai at 7 AM. She looked at Mitti on my chest and smiled. She said, "She finally found her place. Cats only sleep on chest when they feel 100% safe. You know that?"

I didn't know. I thought she slept on chest because it was warm.

Ammi said, "Today Ali is coming again. And he is bringing his little sister. Remember he said yesterday - my little sister wants to see her. She saw her photo."

I remembered. Ali had said, "My mother is saying, bring her to our house one day. My little sister wants to see her." I had sent one photo on w******p when Mitti was sick.

At 10 AM, I gave Mitti her milk. She drank it all. Then she did something new. She didn't go to my English book to sleep. She went to the window. The small window in my room that has sun for one hour at 10 AM. She sat there, in that square of sun. Her white and light brown fur was shining. You could see her real color now. Not dirty white. But white with light brown patches. Like earth. Like Mitti.

She sat there for twenty minutes, just watching the street. Kids were shouting. A cycle bell ringing. Someone was calling for chaat. She was listening to the outside world, but from inside. She was not a street cat anymore. She was a house cat who was listening to street sounds like a memory.

At 3 PM, Ali came. With his little sister. She is maybe 7 years old. Her name is Zara. She was wearing a pink sweater, two ponytails, and she had a small hair clip with a cat on it. I noticed that.

Ali said, "Where is your famous Mitti? My whole class is asking about her. Sir also asked, how is your cat?"

I pointed to the window. Mitti was still sleeping in the sun near the window, on my old blue blanket which is now her blanket.

Zara went near her very slowly. Like Ali taught her. She didn't make noise. She sat on the floor, two feet away.

Mitti opened her eyes. She saw Zara. She didn't get scared. Usually she gets scared when new people come. On Day 2, when Ammi came, she hid under the charpoy. On Day 4, when the neighbor came for chai, she hid behind the heater. But today, she looked at Zara and kept looking.

Zara whispered, "Can I touch her?"

I said, "Slowly. From side, not from top. Cats don't like hand from top."

Zara put her small hand near Mitti's head, very slowly. Mitti sniffed it. Her nose touched Zara's finger. Then Mitti did something she never did with me in eight days. She pushed her head into Zara's hand. Like she was asking for more.

Zara's face lit up. She started stroking Mitti's head, very gently. Mitti closed her eyes. And then she started purring. Grrr... Grrr... Louder than last night on my chest.

Ali said, "She likes Zara. She never does this with me. When I try to touch, she runs."

I said, "Maybe because Zara is small like her. Same size in heart."

Zara stayed for one hour. One full hour, sitting on the floor, with Mitti in her lap for the last 30 minutes. Mitti was sleeping in Zara's lap, in the sun. Her body was loose. Totally loose. Not tightly curled like before when she was scared or cold. Her paws were open. Her stomach was showing a little. That means she was feeling 100% safe. Cats only show stomach when they feel 100% safe.

While Zara was holding Mitti, she told me a story. She said, "We had a cat last year. White color. Her name was Snowy. But she died. A bike hit her on road. My mother said don't bring another cat, you will be sad again. But I still want a cat."

I didn't know what to say. I looked at Mitti, sleeping in Zara's lap, warm from sun, warm from inside.

At 4 PM, Ali said, "Chalo Zara, now we have to go. Ammi is waiting."

Zara picked up Mitti slowly and put her back on the blue blanket. Mitti woke up, stretched, and looked at Zara. Then she did something that made Zara cry.

Mitti followed Zara to the door. For seven days, Mitti never went near the main door. Doctor said, "Don't take her outside. There is infection in the street." And we followed strictly. She had not even seen the outside of our main gate for seven days. But today, she walked to the door, behind Zara. Slowly. Still weak, but walking.

She sat at the door, looking at Zara's shoes.

Zara turned back and said, "Can I come again tomorrow?"

I said, "Yes. Everyday if you want."

Zara said, "Can I bring a small bowl for her? For milk? My mother has many small bowls."

I said, "Yes."

When they left, Mitti stayed at the door for two minutes, looking down. I don't know what she was thinking. Was she thinking about the street where I found her? Near the garbage, at the corner? Or was she thinking that she has a new friend now?

I picked her up. She was warm. Really warm. Her fur was hot from sun and from Zara's lap. I put her back in her basket.

In the evening, Ammi was making dinner. She said, "That little girl likes Mitti a lot."

I said, "Mitti also likes her. More than me maybe."

Ammi said, "Cats choose their people. Like Mitti chose you on that cold night. Today she chose Zara also. Some cats have more than one person. Mitti will have two houses now. Our house and Zara's heart."

At night, Mitti did not come to my chest at first. She went to the window again, where Zara had sat. She sniffed the floor where Zara's feet were. Then she came to my charpoy. She didn't sit on my feet. She came directly to my chest. Like last night. But today she was heavier. Or I felt she was heavier because she ate more today.

Her small weight on my chest. Her warm fur touching my chin. Her soft purring. Grrr... Grrr... Grrr...

Outside, the fog was coming back. The cold wind started again. The sun of the morning was gone. But inside my room, under the old blue blanket, I was warm. Because the sun was not on the roof anymore. The sun was sleeping on my chest. And her name was Mitti.

I wrote in my diary that night: Day 8. Mitti met her first visitor today. A small girl with pink sweater and cat hair clip. Mitti slept in her lap for 30 minutes. She walked to the main door for the first time. She didn't go out. She just looked. I think she has finally understood that this is her home. But now her home has one more room - Zara's heart. And I have understood that my home is wherever she is, and now also wherever Zara is, because Zara makes Mitti happy.