I am aware that people dislike me here.
There was a specific day when my siblings and I witnessed our mother's cat. When we questioned her where she got it, she replied that a friend had given it to her.
My mother has a deep affection for animals, especially cats.
I'm not sure why she's so obsessed with owning or having a cat.
She would constantly tell us that she planned to eventually raise a cat.
She knew we didn't like cats based on our behavior, so we used to grimace at this statement. Maybe that's what kept her from bringing it home for so long. Now, we had no choice but to live with him.
On a day when my mother wasn't present, I warned my siblings that if we could starve the cat and put him in danger, he would soon pass away from suffering.
God is good because our mother doesn't constantly live with us, my younger brother said.
It poured heavily on a day that had been long anticipated.
We unanimously decided to lock the cat outside so he may be pummeled by the rain and eventually die.
Oh, a cat is a very resilient creature; he overcame everything till our mother showed up.
She reprimanded us and brought the cat inside after warming him up with the heat.
She carried him inside the room, piled linoleum on top of him, and placed him on a neat bed.
The cat was aware that he was in an unwelcome setting because of the way he appeared.
Since his avenger was present, he was protected and nothing could harm him.
The cat was at least momentarily secure.
He was content with his momentary safety, though.
That day, I admired his innocence and vowed to look out for OUR dear kitty.
