When the pussy meows, give it milk.

There's this cat that frequents my street, from the early evening, well into the deep of the night. He (or she, I haven't had the chance to pick it up and probe), is black, white a white belly and white paws. The cat is clean enough as it is; otherwise I would've contracted something unpleasant from it, thus breaking out into rashes and itches (I've told the story about my first contact with a cat countless times).

For the last few months, it's been in the garage, sleeping on the car; the shed fur and paw marks have been a dead giveaway. It's been kind enough not to leave any odours or surprises, which may possibly mean it's treating the garage and the garden (if you can call it a "garden") as a surrogate home: with respect.

I came home yesterday to see it nestled beneath the atom bomb of an external water purifier that we have. This has happened once before, and just like before, I made annoying clicking noises with my tongue and it came to me. And, just as before, it rubbed itself against my leg, as all friendly, content cats do.

So I only did what came naturally to me.

I gave its head a soft rub, and sat there, letting the little mongoose chill out and bathe in the sun. It then proceeded towards the shelter of the garage, and starting scratching the tyres. Mind you, this is the same feline that makes it incredibly tedious to wash the hood of a ninety thousand ringgit car. But, obviously, I've got a soft spot for pretty pussies.

I went upstairs, and broke off a few chunks of a cream cracker, and went back downstairs and tossed it onto the ground in front of the car. The little bugger took a crack at it and didn't eat it. I then tossed it out into the garden, and then sat nearby. It took a short prowl, stretched, pawed its way to the grass and took a bite of the cracker bits. And ate them.

I locked the door, and went upstairs, quite satisfied about my good deed of the day. Even though I'm rather certain that the cat didn't need the treat. It looked very fat. Either that, or very pregnant...I couldn't tell.

The beauty of cats is that they demand service. It's as if it's expected of you. Cats are regal. Stately. Sophisticated. Dogs are fun, yes; but cats have brains. And they don't drool. And they've got sandpaper tongues. Of course, cats will run out on you once they discover that the four walls around them aren't as fashionable as they originally made them out to be, but that only makes them more relatable.

Animals are amazing creatures, regardless of whether or not we eat them, feed them or worship them.

Go hug your fucking pet today!