A Cat’s Chronicle
1.
My name is Gatush. I am a tom cat, black and white. Today, I was told that
I will be on a long trip to the south. But the man who told me about the
trip did not say when I will come back.
My name is Gatush. I am 12 year old, maybe 13. I cannot recall my age
clearly.
If my sister, Benjamina were still alive, I am sure that she would remember
and purr the answer right to my ears.
Benjamina was my only sibling. If you say "Benjamina" is a strange name, I
would say "agreed". Gatush is a strange name too, but at least, if you know
a little Spanish, you know the name has something to do with cat. Even my
sister herself thought the name was too long, the family I am with called
her "Benja" for a shorter version. A strange name. But I got tons of
nicknames from the family, especially from the elder son of the two. So, it
is even. I always remember how Benja looked at me from the corner of her
eye when I was called by all the unspeakable names, yet with affection from
the family.
Now, I am missing Benja, my only sister. I never though her life was so
short while mine goes on and on. If I had her with me for the trip, I would
worry a second about it. But now is possible.
I curl up to sleep in my bed, pondering over the news. My mom, Wilma, once
said cats should think their problems in their dreams. Benjamina never
believes in that. But it works for me.
2.
As soon as I closed my eyes to sleep, I figured out that the trip must have
something to do with the family's relatives in R town.
I know absolutely nothing about R, rather once heard mom said it is a town
on a cliff. Not an ideal place for cat. But if you were a bird, you may
have a different opinion.
My mom went there once before Benja and I were born. We were her first and
only liter. So, after Benja was gone, I am left nobody to verify my memory.
Actually, now I think about it, it seems that mom was from near there. Yes,
it makes sense. She was from there then came to join the family here in
city.
Benja, I know all stories Mom told us socked in your brain. Tell me what I
forgot in my dream. I promise that tomorrow I will hide a feather in your
favor spot for you.
When I woke up in the early morning before the first bird tweeters, sweat
heart Benjamina already delivered the whole set of memory into my head. Oh,
yes, cats do forget, but they can count the blood relative who already
became spirits, or as human said "passed away" to collect information from
another world only belonged to cats.
For that reason, I know my Mom, the most beautiful gray tiger cat, Wilma is
still alive even though I don't know where she is. She was a young mother
when she had Benja and me, barely one year old.
I am 12, and she is just over 13. In cats' year, she is a senior but hardly
the oldest.
I still miss her, but I guess I got used to missing her.
When a cat starts to miss somebody, time flies. I need to hide the feather
for Benjamina right now before I can tell you more about my mom, the most
beautiful gray tiger cats.
3.
Because of my old age, I forgot a lot of things, and I always repeat myself,
like broken record. Maybe I did not forget things but simply got lazy. I
rely on my dear sister too much. Way too much.
As I told you, Benjamina still reads my mind and replies all my questions
after so many years she pasted away. So, I am so used to sharing her
thoughts, especially memories.
Slowly, I no longer know it is her memories, or mine. If it is my own memory
for things after Benja past away, I have nobody to verify any part of it.
Then I start to doubt whether it ever happened. Then it became that things
never happened.
But I did take a note about telling you about our beautiful mother, Wilma. I
did not forget that. That's something I am confident to talk about, since
Benja and I talked so much about her after she left us and the family.
Memory defines cats. For kittens, all they can remember is the warmth of
mommy, the joy brought by toys and siblings. Until one of kitten’s
ancestors in the parallel universe, sometimes, a grandma, sometimes great-
great-great uncle or something, decided to deliver a first set of cat’s
memory to the kitten. With the first thread of cat’s thoughts, a kitten
becomes a cat.
Benja and I talked about who were our memory-fairy. We don’t know who she
is, but she is black and white. Since our Mom is a gray tiger cat, that
ancestor must from our father’s side, no doubt of it.
But, things are a little different for Wilma, our dear mother. When she
finally decided to tell us about her memory-fairy, she still had chills
rolling down from her shining light and dark gray strips. She said she was
visited by two cats, not one. Two cats who were exactly same like there was
an invisible mirror between them, reflecting each other.
（to be continued）
