Growing up in India, I was ingrained with certain beliefs about cats – they were considered evil omens, bearers of bad luck, and sly creatures to be wary of. In my homeland, superstitions linked these felines to misfortune and harm to infants. According to tradition, encountering a cat on your path demanded an immediate change of course to avert bad luck and misery.
Upon arriving in Canada, I carried these biases against cats with me, nurturing a deep-rooted aversion to these animals. I had no desire to welcome them into my life, let alone love them.
However, fate had different plans. I met and married a woman who had grown up with cats as part of her family. It was only a matter of time before she suggested we adopt one. In her parents’ home, a large, rotund, golden-colored cat named Maggie lived. Maggie’s presence made me uneasy, especially when we brought our infant daughter to visit. I kept a vigilant eye on Maggie, dashing to ensure she didn’t pose any threat to my child. To my surprise, my wife and her family found my concern amusing, assuring me that Maggie was harmless.
As our family grew with the arrival of two more children, my wife’s desire for a pet cat intensified. It was not for our sake but for the children’s companionship, she argued. Succumbing to the pressure, I eventually agreed, setting two conditions: first, it must be a kitten, not a plump cat like Maggie, and second, we would return the cat if things didn’t work out.
With these terms in mind, we visited the Ottawa Humane Society, and that’s when a kitten named Bilea entered my life. Her fur boasted a beautiful blend of white, yellow, and black, which I had to admit was rather charming. We named her Bilea, a term for cat in Gujarati, my native language. Our children delighted in playing with Bilea, feeding her, and sharing their nights with her. Watching our kids bond with Bilea soon became my favorite pastime. She felt like a fourth child, and over time, I began to grow fond of this small creature.
Thus, my journey of unlearning my preconceived notions about cats began.
Bilea lived with us for nearly two decades. However, with time, she developed arthritis, cataracts, and stomach pain. With heavy hearts, we made the difficult decision to euthanize her. It was akin to losing a beloved family member and a deeply painful experience for us all.
A few years later, a friend of my daughter, who worked at a cat hospital, called. She mentioned a cat that bore a striking resemblance to our beloved Bilea and had been brought in for euthanasia. Without hesitation, my wife and daughter rushed to bring her home. This full-grown cat, resembling our Bilea with her tricolored coat, was christened Masala, signifying a blend of colorful spices in Gujarati.
On Masala’s first evening with us, she hopped onto my lap, marking it as her own special spot. She wouldn’t merely sit but sprawled on her back, beckoning me to give her a rub. If I hesitated, she’d gently nudge me with her paws. She refused to let me sit idly.
By this time, our children had embarked on their own journeys, and one of them entrusted us with their cat named Sylvester. This was how the third cat entered our lives.
Masala initially resisted the intrusion of another cat into her territory. However, with time, albeit reluctantly, she grew to accept Sylvester as a legitimate member of the household. In a surprising turn of events, the two cats even became close friends.
As my wife and I settled into our life with the two cats, our children found their own careers. My wife, unfortunately, fell victim to ovarian cancer. She battled the disease for three grueling years before succumbing to it. This trying period also unveiled the true nature of cats to me. Masala and Sylvester stood vigilantly by her side, rarely moving, not even to eat. After her passing, they roamed the house for days, seemingly searching for her.
During those darkest days, Masala and Sylvester provided me with solace and companionship. Returning home from a demanding workday to these two pets became the most precious part of my day. Masala would eagerly jump on my lap, seeking affection, while Sylvester would quietly sneak onto my bed at night, purring softly. It was a soothing, soul-reviving sound.
Through the experiences with Bilea, Masala, and Sylvester, I unlearned my preconceived prejudices against cats. They taught me a valuable life lesson: the key to building meaningful relationships lies in unlearning preconceived notions about those who may look, communicate, or behave differently from us.
