Just like Ginger

 

It was at the juncture, where the enigma of the night was peeling away to make way for the spiritually percieved wee hours of just another working day, when I heard a feeble ruckus from beneath my bed. Ginger had just given birth to a bunch of kittens, tucked under her forelimbs. She herself was barely a year old then.

She had come as a birthday gift to me and been a cynosure of our eyes since then. My mom who’s eternally been apprehensive about beings that commute in fours, started liking pets -thanks to her.

Ginger’s this typical pussycat-narcissistic with elan and unabashedly boisterous. Her daily routines consists of steady hibernation punctuated by timely meals and occasional sporting inclinations. When we thought adulthood was a long shot then, she was handling maternity like a pro.

It was something to observe, the metamorphosis from a carefree young cat to a doting mother. They say that cats aren’t expressive and tend to get cannibalistic with their own offspring, but Ginger made our home resonate with the warmth of maternal love.

Motherhood is indeed the most beautiful phase, seeing her go about with hers made me respect her beyond just the adoration. It won’t be far fledged to say that her maternity unearthed ahitherto buried facet in me-sensitivity.

Over the next few weeks, she allowed us to fraternise with those adorable little things – bundle of joy they were. She would just observe all of their shenanigans from a calling distance, like a watchful parent overseeing her toddler go about in a playground.

We are taught values right from a very young age so that we grow up to judge people with our self styled ethical reasoning. Most of us can’t soak in the moment and just live every drop of it without feeling guilty.For we have an ambition to decorate, an ivory tower to build and a society to appease. Maybe curbed instincts and an ability to lead a compromised life is the bedrock of our sixth sense, the perceived cutting edge over animals.

While Mother nature keeps motherhood at bay from our species for a good quarter century at least, here she bestows the forbidden fruit on a furry-five sensed creature in her very first year of existence.Coming to think of the paradox, it had only taken a few months for Ginger to turn from a naive kitten to mothering her own litter.

But as the cliche goes, all things good come to an end.

We knew from the time Ginger came home that we couldn’t keep have another cat as ours is a office-cum-residence. So we had started scouting for interested adopters to give away the kittens, for they were starting to get inseparable with every passing day.
But we always had this unsettling thought in our heads as to how Ginger would handle the separation.It was that hideous act that had to be done, of separating her from her young ones.

We sent Ginger to a pet care for neutering and in the meanwhile gave away the kittens to a local pet hostel with a very heavy heart. But if that was heavy, what was to follow suit sent us on a one-way spiral of guilt.  The first thing Ginger did after coming back from surgery, was search for her little ones in every nook and corner of the house. It continued for weeks to come.

Ever heard a cat cry? Well it’s the most painful tug at the most resolute of heartstrings.God forbid us for what we did to her.

But as time passed, her unrequited maternal instincts subsided paving way for erstwhile playfulness to resurface with renewed vigour. She had completely gotten over the fact that her little ones and reproductive organs had been taken away from her,without consent at about the same time. Either that or she still remembered, but was made of steel from inside.

I picked a very important lesson from her- to move on, which would come handy when I would go through a rough break-up much later.

Our pets are such wonderful manifestations, the emotions and impact of whom we often tend to marginalise. There have been times when watching Ginger fall asleep , trustingly on my lap  has invigorated the kind of serenity, that comes when mom feeds me at the end of a tired day  So are they just five sensed? Think twice.

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