Hold all calls while I speak with my cat

Iremember watching The Cat People on VCR many, many moons ago. Had nothing to do with kitties. The film starred Malcolm McDowell and Nastassja Kinski as a brother-andsister set who turned into predatory black leopards when lulled into a certain state (about which I cannot write on these pages). Yes, I know leopards are known as big cats, but they are not cat cats — those self-contained creatures with nine lives who can be found skulking around dimly-lit parking areas.

I’ve been fascinated with the term Cat People ever since. But it’s only now that I have my own perspective on it.

I have a friend right here in Dubai who’s referred to as ‘The Crazy Cat Lady’. She loves her cats — there are two of them — to bits; whenever she travels, the first thing she does is buy gifts for them: ‘pedigreed’ cat food, fancy collars, organic treats, cat shampoos (apparently ‘citrus-scented’ is the preferred option for her furry creatures), etc. She admits she spends far more on her felines than she does on herself — or any of her human friends. She chopped her lovely hair off sometime back because her cats don’t approve of long tresses and pull at them mercilessly.

In my growing up years (predating my watching The Cat People), one of our neighbours — whose nursery-going daughter I used to teach when I was in high school (for pocket money) — kept a dozen cats at home… their tiny flat used to be overflowing with them… the cats were everywhere, being spoken to in human terms, being fed croutons and pastry flakes; the first thing I did after I came back home post my teaching assignments was to dust off cat hairs from my clothes. I remember I’d once carried a kitten in my bag back home (wasn’t kit-napping, just wanted to keep him/her overnight, I thought he/she deserved a staycation), where I got a huge dressing down from my mother; I had to retrace my steps immediately and return him/her back.

Maybe if I had the chance to bond with a cat — the way I bonded with our family dog Bozo (who was most interested in the contents of my bag when I’d carried the kitten in it) and grew to love canines — I’d have ended up being a Cat Person myself. Alas, that was not to be.

Consequently, I don’t like cats. I find them too snooty and insular — although cat lovers will hasten to iterate that cats can be more connected than dogs.

Of course, I don’t buy that — but, clearly, my opinion doesn’t count for anything.

Last week, I met someone who takes the concept of Cat People several notches higher. This woman, a friend’s friend, was staying with me for a few days; she and my friend were visiting Dubai, and my place served as a dropbox to house them. So far, so good. Then, in the middle of the night, I suddenly observed her (very hazily) getting up from bed (I’m a light sleeper, and she was sleeping in the same room as I was) and making her way towards the living area. In a couple of minutes, she was working her mobile phone and speaking to somebody. “Boyfriend?” I wondered dreamily, drifting in and out of slumber; 4am (that, by the way, is middle of the night for me) is a strange time to call someone, but, hey, why was I assuming she was calling someone locally or in India even (one-and-a-half hours ahead of us), it could be someone Down Under or in the US of A. More importantly, why wasn’t I minding my own business? After that gentle rebuke to myself, I tried to get cosy under the blanket… that’s when I heard she was baby-talking to someone. “Why didn’t you have dinner, baby? That’s not a good thing to do, no? Do you want me to scold you? Oh, my baby, my little baby, of course I’m not going to scold you!”

Now, I was most intrigued. Who is she talking to?

Turned out, it was her cat. In Bombay. The cat has a nanny, who was holding a phone to the cat’s ear. And the cat was, reportedly, loving the fact that she was being spoken to. She was purring (that’s what this woman claimed in the morning), and looking like the one who’s had all the full-fat cream (that’s what the nanny endorsed to her).

The Cat Conversations — for more than half-an-hour apiece — were replayed the remaining three nights she stayed with me.

As for myself, I lost out on sleep; couldn’t get back to a shut-eye state even when I stopped counting sheep in my mind’s eye, and took to counting cats.

The cat has a nanny, who was holding a phone to the cat’s ear. And the cat was loving the fact that she was being spoken to. She was purring and looking like the one who’s had all the full-fat cream