The last two pics are painstakingly similar to my (former) cat Bu6i. The only difference between them and Bu6i was that Bu6i had a cataract in his left eye.
I really can’t stand it anymore. I must get a cat. Sure mother will breathe fire but let her. I’ll tell her a cat is an essential must for my mental health. I doubt she’ll care though. She’d look me in the eye and throw the cat in the street. Seriously speaking I was way less stressed when Jassim and Bu6i were around – though before them I was quite close with my pillow, in the end even though a pillow is a good listener u pour ur heart out and in the end u only have a soggy wet pillow. Some how I never really felt much better.
I really didn’t think I’d ever get over Jassim’s death. He was my BEST FRIEND. Even though he was a cat and all there were times when he seemed so “human” it was scary. He went everywhere with me, to my friend’s house, to my cousins house, to the store, to my student (actually this student was the one that gave me Jassim, it tickled him pink that I was so attached to the gift he gave me) heck he even went to school with me. I used to put him in a shoe box and stroke him discreetly under my desk. Once I forgot to bring him food, he got hungry and decided to go search for some food himself – in my classmates’ bags. They screamed their bloody heads off even though later they all admitted Jassim was super cute – I mean come on who wouldn’t think a fluffy ball of white and brown fur with blue eyes wasn’t cute?
There were times that I got him angry at me and he’d show his displeasure, like the time I was trying to study and he wanted to play (he was still a kitten back then and ALWAYS wanted to play) I got frustrated at his repeated attempts and sprayed him with water. He retreated to a corner and shook himself dry. I didn’t realize how angry he was till he was approaching me slowly with his head cocked to one side. His eyes were angry! He took a flying leap and sunk his teeth into my hand. I tried smacking him away but he bit harder. It hurt like hell and he didn’t let up till I stroked his head and promised to play with him. I doubt he understood the promise but he got the general idea that I was apologizing and released my hand. The only other time that he got really really angry at me (didn’t forgive me for days) was when I went to Kuwait for two weeks. My brother and I went to go visit our sister. Everyone else was home. They told me every day Jassim would go search my room calling and calling and then he’d search the rest of the house. They said after a few days his calls became whines and he whined all day and all night. Finally he started sleeping with mother – even though he still continued to whine during the night. One night mother said she told him to keep quiet otherwise she was going to throw him outside. She said surprisingly he kept quiet that night. I called a few days before we returned and asked my brother there to put the cell phone to Jassim’s ear so I could talk to him. I talked for a few minutes and he whined back. My brother said his eyes were searching the room and after I got off the phone he went straight for my room in hopes of finding me. When I finally did get back Jassim was sitting on top of the front gate. I called to him. He looked down at me with a look of disgust (seriously it was a pure look of disgust) he refused to come near me for days. I was really surprised. If someone had told me before that cats could hold grudges like that I would have thought they were lying.
Despite the times when I pissed him off, Jassim was always there for me. Whenever I was down he would sense it and keep my company. One 3ed I was really sick, hadn’t gotten out of bed for days. Jassim stayed with me almost that whole time. I remember that day my folks made breakfast and it smelled really good. Jassim ran off to go eat with them I suppose but they wouldn’t let him. He was only allowed to eat with them if I was there cuz he’d sit by me and I’d sneak him scraps. I thought he would have come back after he wasn’t allowed to eat with them but he didn’t. I dozed and was awoken by Jassim. He had brought in a dead bird and dropped it by my bed. He never ate meat of any kind unless it was cooked and seasoned – but I’m quite sure he got that bird expecting I’d eat it and feel better. I really appreciated that thought but I sure didn’t wanna see a dead bird in my room, right there beside my bed no less!
I had Jassim for 2 years and a half.. maybe 3/4s. I had raised him from when he was a kitten. I wasn’t ready for him to go. Some times when I think back on it I realize his death was partly my fault. He died from an infected cut. He loved to go outside and hang out with the street cats whenever he’d go out for the bathroom. One day he came in with a cut on his chest. It was really tiny, a puncture wound they call it. I figured it was ok I’d just wash it up for him. A couple of days later it turned into a lump. I had no idea about any of that. I didn’t even know that those lumps come from infection. Over a month or two the lump would come and go. One day that lump just opened and oozed out disgusting stuff. Jassim stopped eating. He barely moved around. That’s when I realized maybe I should take him to the vet. I took him and the doc gave him two shots and said he’d be fine but bring him back in a couple of days for 2 more shots. Over those couple of days Jassim didn’t look “fine” as the doc had said he was. The day I was supposed to take him back to the doc he looked really sick. He was drinking lots of water but refused to eat. He would only walk two steps before collapsing on the floor and resting for a while before moving two steps more. It tore me to watch. It was evening time when I was supposed to take him back to the doc. It was before I got my license here so I couldn’t drive myself. Mother said she was too tired to drive. So my brother and I went out to get a taxi with Jassim in a box. We waited forever for a taxi, they would stop but when we said where we were going they all refused saying there was too much traffic in that area. We waited and waited until it got so late that the vet was closed. We never got a taxi and had to go back home. I felt so bad for Jassim he looked really sick and just tossed and turned in the box. I stroked him most of the night apologizing for not being able to take him to the doc. The later it got the less Jassim turned. I prayed that he wouldn’t die. Prayed really hard. Guess it was too little too late. I couldn’t bear watching him anymore. A part of me knew he was dying but I kept denying it to myself. I moved the box with him in it into the hall. I went off and sat in the living room beside the hall. Every so often I could still hear him toss and turn slowly in the box. I fell asleep praying he wouldn’t die.
In the morning I could feel alarm setting into my dream – I remember dreaming that night but I don’t remember about what. One of my brothers came in and said Jassim was dead – stiff and dead. I couldn’t look at him. I told my brother to put him and the box outside. My brother not knowing what to do put the box outside but didn’t bury him. For two days that box greeted me as I came and left the house. On the second day after I came home from school I forced myself to look inside. It hurt more than any pain I’d ever felt before. He had died with his eyes open. His eyes that were once an amazing shade of sparkling blue were now murky… and empty. I wanted to throw up. I closed the box and went directly to my room. I cried for the first time in two days since he had died. The next day my students Ali and AbdulAziz came over, they had a test or something to study for I don’t really remember clearly I was totally out of it. They kept asking me what was wrong. I knew if I told them I’d cry again. That was definitely the last thing I needed, to cry in front of them, their sister, mother and the boy who gave Jassim to me (he was there also but by that time my mother had taken over teaching him). When I left the living room on the pretext of retrieving something I think mother or one of my brothers told them cuz they were really quiet when I came back. Finally Ali, Abdul Aziz, Rashid (the boy who gave me Jassim, that was his name) and my two youngest brothers decided Jaasim needed a proper funeral (Ali and Aziz both knew Jassim and liked him as much as the rest of my brothers). The five of them went out, picked a suitable place, dug a grave and buried Jassim and the shoe box. I’m not sure what rituals they performed out there but they looked very self satisfied as they marched back inside and informed me that they had taken care of business. They were all very solemn about it.
In the weeks that followed Rashid kept asking me and mother if I wanted a new cat to replace Jassim. I refused him front, left and center. In the end he got me another cat, kitten actually. My brothers pulled him out of the box for me. God, he was a cute ball of cappuccino colored fur! I forced myself to refuse him. I left him sitting in the living room. A few times I went in to peak at him and see if he needed the bathroom cuz mother would have gone ballistic if it had an accident on the sofas. He looked hungry, scared and hungry. Poor guy, somebody had just thrown him a piece of brown bread. I stroked him a bit, his fur was SO soft. He was a purer breed of Siamese than Jassim was and had full Siamese markings. Damn what had Rashid paid for this new kitten. He really wanted me to cheer up. After visiting with the ‘new’ kitten a couple of times a week in the living room it started to follow me around. Every where I went he was always there right behind my feet. I once purposely walked around in circles in the living room and he followed me till I stopped. Dammit! How the hell am I supposed to reject something this adorable?! The answer was I simply couldn’t. By the end of that week he was sleeping in my bed with me cuddling up at the foot by my feet. When I sat at the computer he wanted to be in my lap. He’d cuddle in my lap for hours as I sat in front of the computer. LOL I think BW remembers that time, it was her freshman year in uni and she’d come online during class time and hear me complain about how I wanted to refuse this cute kitten but couldn’t. I remember thoroughly grossing her out when I informed her that Mr. Cute Kitten went and threw up all over my feet one morning as he was cuddled up down there on my bed.
He didn’t get a name till way later. My brothers had a friend and their friend had a little brother named Bu6i. The name sounded cute so I decided I’d name him that. When asked, BW seemed to like the name as well and that settled it. Bu6i never was as smart as Jassim but he was unique in his own way. After learning my lesson with Jassim I took a lot better care of Bu6i. Took him to the vet at the slightest sign of illness. He got into a fight outside with the cats one day and ended up with a “lump” a few days later. I took him straight to the vet. Vet cleaned him up good gave him a few shots. (Bu6i hated the vet with a passion. A few times when I took him and the doctor had to stitch him up after a fight or give him shots he would cry and u’d see tears streaming down his face. The doc thought that was hilarious.. It drove me insane that the doc could laugh at poor Bu6i like that.)
Taking care of Bu6i gave me something to get my mind off of Jassim, even though I still thought about him sometimes the pain was less.
Bu6i didn’t die though, he was stolen. He had an infatuation with the “great outdoors” beyond our gate and any chance he got to run out of the gate when some one left it open he took. One night my brother walked in and left the gate cracked. Bu6i knew how to open the gate the rest of the way, enough to squeeze out, with his paw. I searched and searched for him the next morning when I realized he wasn’t in the house. He had disappeared a few weeks before that and a neighbor bought him back scowling and dirty. He had been missing for around 5 days or so that time. This time I waited and waited.. 5 days passed… 5 weeks passed.
A boy that lives across the street from us claims his aunt saw Bu6i and took him back to Pakistan with her. I’m not sure whether that was the truth or not. It’s been over 5 months now. Way over. I still keep an eye out for him. I wonder if I ever do see him again would he recognize me?