The Little Grey Cat-astrophe

I have a highly acute sixth sense. 

It's unnerving at the best of times, but it also makes me overly paranoid in situations. 

But today was slightly different. I woke up sunnily, but I also had a lingering feeling that some bad news would come today; it was an uncomfortable feeling that I just couldn't put a finger on. 

So when mum rang me at lunchtime, I already had a hunch that it was going to be bad news before she could even speak. 

Me: "Hel-"

Her (breathless, panicky): "BABU'S GONE MISSING."

Me: ".............. what?" 

My world came crashing down. 

Every pet-owner's nightmare. My sweetly-aggressive, 7-month-old British Shorthair kitten was gone. Our domestic help had left the back door open as she usually does, while she goes about the dishes just a few feet away. This time, she left it open & went upstairs, so no-one was around that area to keep an eye. And when mum came to call Babu, there was no response.

So in typical Desi style, everyone panicked & alerted the guards, & sent them to check every slip of the ledge, every corner, every crack in the condo. No bush would be left unturned, no carpet bulge unchecked. It was chaos everywhere. And at office, I couldn't eat my lunch properly in fear of letting my colleagues see my eyes, which were beginning to water dangerously every few seconds. 

Babu was my world. He was sassy; he was warm; he was comfort in a little ball of fur. He was home, despite being only with us for seven months. He'd be the first to run & greet me good morning with a hearty Meow, weave himself between your ankles & plonk himself at your feet to receive his favourite under-the-chin kitty massages & morning belly rubs. And then race behind the sofa to scratch it. That pest. My mind kept wandering to how his little paws would survive the harsh brick roads of our condo. A tiny little furry soul, completely lost. My eyes teared up more. 

It's funny how we grow so attached to squishy little balls of walking talking fur. We take them away from their parents in Animal World, & plonk them in Human World as if it's something we do everyday. Something so trivial. And everything just...functions. Life goes on. We're his world, as he is ours. I can only imagine the angry & painful tears rolling down my teenage brother's cheeks - much to his own disgust - after finding out his best friend has disappeared. 

But around an hour after the distress call, my brother called me again. Babu had, mercifully, been discovered under the furthest-placed sofa in the lounge, but without his trademark lime-green collar which had mysteriously fallen off somewhere. Because without the bell, no one can hear him. He never actually wandered off into the balcony area. Rather, he quietly padded under the sofa, curled up into a ball, & simply closed his little yellow eyes. Safe from everyone. Simple. 

Relief washed over me. Then turned to anger at our helper. And back again to relief. 

Oh Babu. I wish you could talk back to me so I can truly tell you how much I love you. Because no amount of fake meows, or catnip, or toy cars can sum up how much you truly mean to me. 

I can never forget how lucky we've been.