He was heroically saved from the evil clutches of the children playing on the streets two weeks back by Ahmed, the spiked-hair boy of Ashfaq Bhai, the “Big Dada” of the family. Simon was fed on a diet of milk and cat-food bought from Naheed’s Supermarket.
Breakfast = Bowl of milk
Lunch = Cat food (read “expensive cat food”)
Dinner = Bowl of milk
The parents are conspiring against the four legged “gentle-cat” , but the children have grown affectionate towards the feline. He was brought to the birthday party of the kid , Mohammed Azaan, which appeared to be a giving away of the pet.Hence he was actively advertised as a potential adoptee to yours truly and the lanky guy who lives upstairs with the spiked hair resembling a triceratops(read my younger brother).
Simon was lovingly given a bath earlier that same day with Johnson’s baby shampoo and the “hair ” was impeccably dried with a hair dryer, all done by fifth grader Zoha Ashfaq with her salon treatments. It was stipulated that he hails from the Siamese breed (although he is a Himalayan citizen) and does not shed much hair.
Simon was found playing “Statue-Statue” with the children in the drawing room, glaring with his steel blue eyes, amid his “gnome “like place in the garden, wedged between two shrubs. And while the cake was being served, meticulously divided into equal rectangular pieces, with slivers of pineapple neatly sandwiched in- between by the father of the birthday boy, the tabby cat sprawled on the sofa, patted his black furry tail like the desi Punjabi lovingly groom their coal black moustache- “mooounch ko taow“.
When questioned about the possible thought of being possessed by a jinn, Mme Zoha stated, “NOOO!! We have asked him many times that if there is a jinn inside… then GO AWAY! We will not say anything or hurt you.”
Therefore, currently, Jinn status = Nil (as yet)
It was a night of mixed feelings as noted by this scribe, when the children were preparing to ride back home with their pet back in the safety of their laps.
Simon,we adore your steel blue eyes with the little specks of darker blue in the irises and the hole that is your pupil, and the white whiskers that frame your eyes and the nose. The brown coat of yours that looks like a lady’s expensive fur coat bought from an elite shop in Paris, and the pink soft cushioned paws that you ever-so-gently lick. But we are sorry, we cannot adopt you despite all these demure features, because our hands are already full and the access inside the house is DENIED. Presently, we already have two adopted cat-children; both fraternal twins , one a skidder like a mad motorcyclist, whom the elder brother has named as an “anxiety sufferer” and the other who is a kleptomaniac of all sorts.
The cat children are ill mannered, but “Who hates their babies?”