Home coming of a stray named Romeo
This is a simple true story about how did our kitty named Romeo come home, and become a member of the family. He was a stray, a roamer—the word thus inspired my daughters to give his name.
It was on a foggy Sunday morning last winter when I went up to our rooftop terrace to check level of water in the tank, my routine job, I found a stray kitty curled lazing in a corner trying his best to protect himself from the cold. We contacted our eyes. I have the habit, actually an old habit, of stroking or patting other’s pet, even the stray. So, I bent over slowly forward whispering ‘Hello’ and lightly patted him. He responded, positively. The following morning I found him again in the same spot. He recognised me that day. His body language and a light purr indicated he wanted something from me—may be food, I assumed. He stood up, slipped into between my ankles rubbing his sides. Then I scratched under his chin which in turn he comfortably closed his eyes and leaned over. I wanted to take him home, but it was not a good idea to lift him up in my arms, because he was still a stray and our friendship was just a few days old.
My daughters informed
I have two daughters, Jo (12) and Mae (6), who have extra craze after pet animals and anything related to pets, either movies or stories. I informed both about the friendly stray kitty I met every morning on the rooftop terrace. Both got excited and decided to meet him immediately. It was my daughter Jo who
fed him with fish soup and milk-soaked bread slice every morning. After a few days of feeding and chinscratching, my daughters had finally drawn the plan to bring him home. The road to home from the terrace is a two-floor journey. We ought to lift the buddy in arms, which he was not used to and comfortable. I attempted a couple of times, but failed as he leapt off in scare. My daughter Jo had an idea—it was to lure him with a tastiest food ever, a piece of boiled chicken.
First day at home
“Come kitty come!” Jo called, showing the boiled chicken in one hand and other gesturing to guide him down the long stairway leading to the porch of our floor. It worked! Hiking down the long staircase of
two floors the kitty finally reached our front door, then the living room where he gorged on the piece of chicken, forgetting where he was at that moment. Jo slowly turned the knob of the front door—clinked! We piled up more than normal dose of food around him as part of our trick to lure him or house arrest him on the first day. He ate in short intervals, and then went into slumber after grooming himself. The night on the first day was a bit challenging for all of us. He wanted to go out. Purring so loud standing near the front door, he disturbed everyone’s sleep. We calmed him down giving him some more yummy chicken. The following morning we found him sleep calmly on the bed we prepared under
emergency situation using some unused old sweatshirts; but he messed up one corner of the living room with his potty.
‘Hush Push’—this is what Jo and Mae preferred to call the kitty. I argued that the name which they picked up after a cat of the same name from the movie Coraline is irrelevant, because the kitty in the movie is a black cat and ours is a tabby red. “He was a stray living roaming around, so call him simply Roamer.” My daughters nodded, but not with full satisfaction. When we uttered Roamer, it sounded something synchronised with ‘Romeo’. Thus one-day, Jo suggested why we can’t make it straight to ‘Romeo’. That clicked! Today, Romeo is friendly, obedient and cool; and no messy business anymore. Here the bottom line is there are hundreds of Romeos roaming around, looking for homes. Love them, adopt them!