A stray gave birth to a litter of a single kitty at my home when I was a child (perhaps 10 or 11 years old).
This little kitty was of no specific color. Or rather she was every color. Most people who came to visit would recoil at how ugly she was.
My sis and I were completely besotted by her though. We thought she had more personality than any little kitty we had ever known. She was so playful. She had so much spunk. She would only let herself be petted when it suited her and would spit at us when she wasnt in the mood although she was just a teeny little furball. She would spit with so much confidence, it was so endearing. She actually seemed to believe that would scare us away. We called her Spitty.
One night my dad decided he did not want the responsibility of another kitty. (My sis and I were constantly adopting strays). So he left her out one night with the mama stray hoping they would go away.
The next morning I dicovered Spitty crying pityfully outside our door. She had probably cried all night asking to be let in. Mama cat was nowhere around. I brought her in and cried until my dad agreed she could be ours.
But Spitty never let anyone pet her after that. She would play sometimes if she was in the mood. But at other times she would just keep to herself. I think she never forgave us for that night she spent outside. She would spit if we tried to pet her.
Mama cat never came back for Spitty. By some strange coincidence I think the night she was put out was the night mama decided Spitty was ready to be weaned.
Spitty hated most people except us (she tolerated us). Especially toms. When she was in heat, if male strays came by, she would spit at them and claw them. (Back in those days, India was a very different country. There was no awareness about spaying. So we did not even know we were being negligent.)
When mama cat got pregnant again she gave birth again at our home to three really sweet kittens. My dad let us keep one and we found homes for two others. The kitty we kept was called Kala-bungay. Kala s hindi for black or dark. Kala-bungay was jet black. The Bungay was a reference to
Tono-bungay by my dad who named him.
Spitty loved Kala-bungay. Or rather he loved her and broke down her defences. He would sneak up to her and cuddle up. She would swish her tail angrily at first but she wouldnt spit. She would pretend he wasnt there. He would pounce on her swishing tail. She hated that and would swat him away. But with time she melted. Watching them bond was so delightful and rewarding. My sis and I would spend so much time just watching them.
As she grew to love Kala-bungay she would let my sis or me pet her a bit. But only for brief moments.
Kala-bungay was a perfect lovebug. He always wanted attention and petting.
Surprisingly, Spitty turned pregnant. I insisted she had been raped, because I had seen her repel advances of toms. I sobbed when I realized she was pregnant (from her growing belly). My parents were so amused by my insistence she had been raped.
One morning, Spitty woke me up mewing. She cuddled up to me. I was astounded. I couldnt believe it! She behaved more affectionately than any cat I had ever known. I couldnt rein in my delight. I called out to my mum. My mum realized what was happening. Spitty was birthing! My mum brought a box, lined it with soft cloth and tried putting Spitty in the box. She would cry piteously and jump out onto my lap. I insisted my mum couldnt put her back in the box. My mum relented, grumbling about hygiene and my lack of concern for it. Three little kitties were delivered in my lap.
From that day Spitty was most affectionate. Unfortunately, she fell into a well soon after and died. The neighbours told me she had fallen into their well when they saw me searching for her. They said they had tried to save her.
If Spitty had never turned affectionate, I still think I wouldnt have regretted adopting her. The few days of her affection were so special they are a bonus. I still think back with so much love and gratitude to them.
Sorry. That was a really long story.
