Milk

This is Milk. I named her that 'coz whenever I see her, I feed her some milk. That's right, she's not mine. I don't think she's a stray cat 'coz there have been times when she's around and I pat her, her fur seems clean and soft, meaning somebody's given her a bath, but those times are very few and far apart.

There was one time I patted her when she snapped at my hand. Of course I don't understand animal behaviour, but I think she may have had catfights with the local tomcats, in all sense of the word. Well, there are missing fur here and there with exposed skin, and hint of blood. And yet, she's one of the very very few that I approach that would not run away from me, and in fact she likes it when I pat her.

I'd like to think that it's in her nature to be like that. I watched a movie starring Sandra Bullock called 28 Days. It's about this woman who suffers from substance disorder who checks herself in a rehab clinic. There she makes friends and learns a thing or two about herself. If I'm not mistaken, it was her counsellor (I wouldn't mind having Steve Buscemi as my therapist) who gave her advice about getting a plant or a pet.

Milk may not be my pet, but I like our relationship. It's the kind where one does not depend on the other, but now and then seeks each other out to give support. It's not a strong and stable relationship, but it's a start, isn't it? ....... And who knows, one fine day, I might just go out there and grab a plant, a pet, or a guy .... and make him mine .... for good ... yeah, it's possible ...