Saturday, July 17, 2010

Grieving for her Kitten

7th August 2004


This is so horrible. Such a tiny little “Poochi”, such a beauty her tail longer than her body, my little tigress with all her care, affection, love, sense and independence, all her violence and her grace, her fun and joy and life, all gone. One instant so close to me and then no more. I love my “Cheeli” so much; but she is dead and buried and gone. Yet I feel her everywhere. I feel she’s following me down the stairs waiting for me outside the loo, scratching the screen (outside the bathroom door) as she waits to come running in. There will never be anyone like her. Yes, 3 months is not long, but a few days were enough to change my life. It was such a pleasure to love, to “conjify” (=pet), to admonish, to try to train, to try to understand, to imagine I’m being loved, to communicate with, to play with, to protect and to be with Poochi. No matter what happened I still had some love left for Poochi. Cleaning up after her, feeding her even if I’m the hungriest person on earth, allowing her to scratch and gnaw… I adore her from her lovely body to her adorable nature. How she shone in the sun even when she was dead.
What little fuss she made in adjusting to our household. How she won all hearts in no time. My darling Poochi, she could recognise outsiders …so many times I want to callout Pooooocheee….where are you? She’s dead. I buried her myself.

5th August 2004
No comfort

(This is an entry is about a friend who was trying to comfort her, not very successfully…)
I don’t know why thinks she knows MORE every millisecond of her life. Normally it is not tough putting up with her know-all-ness, but when she started lecturing me on what to do to get over Poo’s death and when she started telling me how much she cared Poo and cats in general and when none of this seemed to work she started telling me about Poo like she knows all about Poo because she scratched her ear for 5 minutes one day, I really lost it.
But I was listening to all her theories and stuff when poor Poo was dying on my lap. And how do I go on listening to more of this. I am to blame.


  1. remember poochi and how sad it was that one day we left her outside and she died coz she didnt know how to protect herself from the street dogs ... miss u suku