Sticky the cat

Once upon a time, when I was a princess living in the Paris of the East, I turned 30. My prince charming threw me a surprise party, and I got incredibly drunk.The next day, I had a stinking hangover. After drinking many shots of coffee and eating countless bars of Snickers, I felt better, but somehow also very mellow and weak.

I then went for a walk with my prince, and we chanced upon a tiny white stray baby cat. (Let it be known that the princess hated cats with a vengeance, and thought they were lazy, insolent, arrogant and smelly creatures.) My prince, however, was a cat lover, and gave off some sort of loving signal. The cat then kept following my prince, and tried to cuddle itself against his legs in a 'miang' way that only cats could portray.

Back in the lobby of our castle, I pulled my prince into the elevator in a bid to escape the cat. And we did so successfully. However, when we stood at our tower and looked down into the gardens, we could see the lonesome cat looking up, as if knowing where we were.

My prince took me into his arms and asked quietly if we could take care of the cat. And in some unforeseen moment of weakness, I said yes. And therein begins the story of Sticky the cat.

xxx

Sticky was named Sticky because the moment he passed through the doors of our chambers, he stuck to either one of us like sticky glue. When my prince and I would cuddle on the sofa as we watched TV, he'd wriggle his way in between us and lie contentedly, squished. Whenever I sat down, he'd jump on me, and curl up in the folds of my legs, purring with delight as I looked down in disgust. It was a long road for both of us, because I didn't like his neediness and he didn't care what I liked. I'd keep pushing him away, but he just kept coming back. Because while he loved both of my prince and I, you could see that he was intent on winning me over. And slowly, but surely, he wriggled his way into my heart.

We lived like that for months. Sticky became bigger and bigger, and very much a part of the family. He used to always run to the door whenever we came back home, purring and rubbing himself against us as a sign of welcome as we took of our shoes. He'd wait patiently for us to settle down, and if we'd refuse to stroke him when he sat next to us, he'd do it himself, and rub his head against our hands. He even had his own 'wife', a little toy monkey we gave to him that he'd beat up every single time we scolded him, and that he'd pull to his little basket to sleep with at bedtime, and that he'd hug instead if we pushed him away from us often enough.

And then my prince and I decided to move to a land far far away. Sticky knew something was up, and in the weeks as we were preparing to leave, laid kisses all over me, and refused to let us out of his sight. Stickier even more than he used to be, he'd jump on me every chance he could, and plonk himself on me, licked my face, and lovingly stroked my cheeks with his paw.

It broke my heart to leave, but we did what we had to do, and put Sticky into the care of a friend, and promised to send for him as soon as we set up home. Little did we know, two days after we left, Sticky ran away and was never seen again.

Hearing the news in my far away land, I cried like I'd never cried before. I thought about all the times we shared. How I had tried to push him away. How he just kept coming back. So loving, so forgiving. How he taught me how to love. How he made me laugh. How he made me smile. How he ate like a pig. How he made me want to scream sometimes. How he just stuck to us. And I cried some more. And I still cry sometimes.

Till today, I miss my Sticky, and hope he's out there somewhere, with enough to eat, and that he has someone to stick to. The way he likes to.

Thank you Sticky. For everything.