Friday, 2 July 2010

Being Thomas

Thomas.. Anyone that has visited our home so far would understand why this post is dedicated to him.

Not many people understood why I was living with Thomas.

And one day my cousin, who has just got divorced, opened up to me, saying "you know how I am now, I am exactly like Thomas". Until that day, I didn't hear anyone who was feeling the same way I was for my pink eared wild cat.
When I was asked how many pets did I have, I used to answer: "I have a cat.. and there is the cat of my cat(meaning Thomas)". He was so wild that when they moved here in this appartment with me, Thomas did not let me touch him, not even let me get near for at least 8 months . He would hiss.

It was funny, I was feeding him and was yet quite scared of him at nights when I was alone with him. It was a matter of guts to leave the bedroom's door open when I was going to sleep.

I must even confess that there has been times when I was hoping that he would get lost or fall down so that I would get rid of him in a way I wouldn't do anything wrong against him.

Even as a kitten he was fierce (click here to see the video), I was unable to feed him with its kitten bottle, since my hands were scratched so badly, by reflex I wasn't able to hold its tiny body in my hand.

Before we saw him, we heard him. It was the voice of some weeks old kitten. He cried for 2 complete days, constantly. His mother never showed up. He was left to die.

Our siamese cat Chocolate insisted on having the kitten inside, coming and going to the kitchen door to him, begging for something from us. So Thomas was taken in  not only to be cured but was supported because he was the friend of our friend Chocolate, our soulful siamese cat.

Thomas had his name from a swiss journalist I knew, looking exactly like him when he was a litttle kitten. We couldn't warm him up nor heal him despite the efforts of the vet. The thing that saved him has been Chocolate.
So Thom learned everything through Chocolate, and thus he needed so less even nothing from us. So, he was never tamed.

When visitors would come he would get lost. It took him long to show up in my presence even.

In years, he learned to get near. He would meow, restlessly, would yearn for that touch but was terrified by any attempt. 

Thomas has been the perfect picture for me how scary we are when we are scared of nearness and trust and how we would hurt the hands coming to us. How many had I torn till I surrendered in love?

A wise man told me once that trust is a link that has to be started by one taking the risk. So there were times where I took the risk by letting him smell my hands, put my face near to his.

Today Thomas has still his caves at our home, his favorite spots away.

There are mornings where I wake up and find him awake, just some centimeters from my nose, staring at me, probably while I am sleeping.

I love him.

..Missing his glance when I am out. 

Love him even more when in any condition he would run to come to me when he is called or when my chest gets wet from dribbles from his mouth when I cudddle him.

It took long, it took work and unconditional giving for those dribbles of pure trust.

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