Skip to main content

Cats

Today, when i came back from work, i was walking up the stairs at home, to my room, and a cat came running from my room. Despite the numerous e-mail addresses i have and my so called "Cat" clan, i hate cats.

As a matter of fact the same Cat came into the house a couple of days ago, i was watchin tv in the living room, on the carpet and suddenly this Cat was looking at me n mioawing.. if thats how you spell the sound that cats make... and ofcourse i just stayed on the carpet and called my mother to chase away the Cat. And all it really took though, was me yelling. Don't know how it keeps getting into the house though...

Reminds me of wn i lived in Indah Villa, n went swimming in tht pool at night. This annoyin black Cat used to stand on the edge of the pool, co-incidentally under the frangipani tree, and miaow. Freaky Cat wld then walk me back to my appartment, n wn i tried to shoo it, it'd take a step back, ready to bolt, but just never disappear. N considering it was normally 2 am, its more than a little freaky.

I do not believe in ghosts, bt decided i know why most of us find Cats a bit freaky and inspire thoughts of the supernatural being oh so very natural...

It's cz they look right at our eyes.... dogs on the other hand, they mostly ignore us.. like kids, they look at us when they want entertainment or food.. or some petting.. but Cats, when they're threatened...they look right at our eyes.

"Do you dare eat me, human?"

Freaky Cats...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Celebrations

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 16 ; the sixteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . It was a hard ground that felt like sand paper. When he started his journey, it was the soles of his feet that were in contact with the ground, but now as he pulled himself closer to the station, it was his whole body. His elbows were scraped, bloody and fresh scab peeled bled out to leave a trail of red on the wicked hot dusty ground of pain and suffering. All around him slow moving bodies crawled towards the direction of hope, all along leaving patterns of blood, sweat, skin and pus. These bodies had seen civil wars, droughts, genocide and lived to tell a tale of a people who now belonged to a nation listed as one of the poorest countries in the world. This is now, but before the list, was a struggle of massive proportions, under reported and quietly hidden

Escape

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 10 ; the tenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . The Temple Widow A narrow dirt path, generously peppered with tiny pebbles, tiny miniatures of their gargantuan ancestors, leads to a bridge. It hangs, rickety and old. Old but not well used, old like abandoned and not frequently used. The bridge hangs low over a small stream that slowly gurgles past, happy unlike those that visit the place. The bridge leads to a temple. It is not very big, only perhaps the size of a small hut and at the most the size of an average temple hall. The temple has no deity; the temple has no one corner that doesn’t look like the other. It is clean, well swept, and empty. It has no furniture, and excepting a series of well spaced out windows, the walls remains uninterrupted. She stumbles in, the lady. She is not very tal

Time Travel

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 8 ; the eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . I haven't got the memory of a vedic tantric. Neither do I ever claim to remember all. All I know is what I know, question my memory if you want to. I don't ask you to remember, I don't ask you to believe. In fact, I'm not asking you for anything at all. It is your choice to be here, to read this. So no, I don't owe you a favor. I happened to chance upon a watch, on one of my travels. Turning the dials of such a watch, could transport you to the past, to the future, to any time. But time, my friend, is not how you think it is. It is not a straight line, and you cannot just by chance hop into the world of dinosaurs and wooden weapons. It is a series of transparencies, like films of clean sheets of paper laid on top of each other. You look from above