She was my parents adopted daughter. My adopted sister, no, she was my sister. She came in our family early September, when she was just a few weeks old. She was really tiny. Her eyes were full of beauty and life. I loved her nose more than my mine. She was the loveliest being that ever came to me.
We took good care of her. No, we gave her the best care possible for someone. I even took time to feed her when I get home. And I would look for her first before my own food. I would gently kiss her nose and carry her. Mumbling words only a baby could understand while I look deep in her life-filled eyes. She would respond to me, putting her hand against my index finger while I gently touch her nose.
She was my joy. She was our joy. Our family became happier because of her. My dad would play with her, it was my first time to see my dad acting like a child when she’s with him. My mom laughed harder because of her. She was more obedient to my mom than me. My mom would even feed her much delicious ulam than what my dad and I eat.
She was with me while I was doing my ComRes research. She was with me the whole time. Sleeping beside me while I work. She, instead of my group mates, was there while I work in the ungodly hours of dawn. Every paper, she was there. She kept me company.
Like right now, this usual scene me typing on my bed in my laptop. She would just suddenly jump on my bed and play around. Sometimes, she would just walk on my keyboard, t’was as if she would want me to stop working and take a rest. And when she gets tired she would just lay on my lap.
When she was little, I’ll take her to bed. We would sleep together. She would walk to my neck and sleep there because she was cold. And her death pains me so bad. She drowned.
I told my mom to close the door as to prevent her from going out. But as always, she would find a way. Haha. Around 9 PM we started calling out for her. But we assumed she was just playing with her usual playmate. And by 10, my mom, my Kuya and I went out to look for her. We looked everywhere but found her nowhere. Not until we asked our neighbor if she saw our little bundle of joy. Our neighbor said yes. and even went with us to show where she was. Inside a water-filled drum.
I turned to my mom and she was the one who took her out of that god-forsaken thing. She held her out and couldn’t believe. I took her from my mom’s hands and carried her the way I always do when I get home. But this time as I look in her eyes, I couldn’t see the life. She wouldn’t even move her hands to push my finger. I was so desperate I still called her name, waiting her to respond. But she won’t
I kept her safe. Would even hug her when I know she’s feeling cold. We share the same blanket. And I can’t even imagine her dying of cold. The idea impales my skin, every muscle, every bone, and my heart, making me bleed so bad. Making my tears fall endlessly.
I couldn’t imagine her dying inside that f*ck*ng drum, my neighbor said they were hearing sounds from it but they didn’t take time to check. HOW COULD A KITTY GET INSIDE A 3 FEET DRUM? For god’s sake, I can’t imagine her, helplessly grasping for air or for anyone who could have helped her. Perhaps she was thinking of me, but I was not there to save her.
I am more than disappointed, I am more than in anguish. I am much hurt more than a break-up. I couldn’t stop from crying. Until now.
I can still remember when she first meowed. I was happy to hear her and I even textbrigged that our bundle of joy—a kitty, had already spoken. That was such a happy moment for everyone.
I’ve cried when our pet dog Peewee got kidnapped in 2002 (yes, and I’ve prayed for the souls of those people), when our pet dog Clover died of heart attack in 2005. But their passing pale in every way compared to Miming’s death.
Miming will not be there to sleep with me. She will not be there to play with me. Taking away every stress in my life. I wouldn't get to flush her poopoo inside the bathroom. She will not be there to add to our happiness. We treated her as a human. We gave her everything she needed. And it pains all of us all in her death.