Tag Archives: cat

New cat cafe in London

2 Mar

So I have heard that a new cat café is opening in London. My friends are excited but I don’t really get why, as if cats are these exotic creatures that are rarely sighted.  More importantly though, I am incredibly uneasy about this increasing love for cats. I know this will be an unpopular post but I take comfort in the fact that at the beginning of every disaster movie there’s always the one guy who has warned everyone but nobody listens to him. Woefully, I have been receiving the same reaction but I feel I must continue to warn others of my experiences.  

 Cats. I don’t like the way they look at me. Like they know me, like they can see inside my soul and know all my deepest secrets. I actually have the same beef with babies. Look I adore babies, often I even want to kidnap them, but sometimes I feel like they judge me. The way they look at me, so intently, like they’re studying me. “It’s rude to stare” I yell at them when their parents leave the room. But they don’t stop staring, they only stare more.

But cats, their eyes have malice, ill intent. And the cats in Yemen are on a totally different level of creepy. When I was stayed there for a few months last year, I began to view my life as simply a series of encounters with the cats. The time a cat turned his head 180 degrees to continue staring at me as I walked past him, the time we went home to find 6 cats had taken up residence inside because someone had left the door open, the time a cat circled the house from the outside, following me as I moved from room to room. It occupied my days and it begun to be how I knew my days. No more Mondays and Tuesdays.  It was simply the day I was traumatised by that cat, the next day was known as the second day after I was traumatised by that cat, etc. and this cycle renewed itself with every fresh incident.

But there was one cat, part time resident of my Grandma’s garden,  that will forever stay with me. He used to wail like a baby.

“Who’s that baby crying?” I would ask.

“That’s a cat” they would reply, and a deathly pallor spread would over me. Then one day I saw him. Oh this cat. He didn’t walk like the other cats. He was grey and tall, his shapely muscles protruded out of his skin and he held his head held up high as if he frequently lifted weights with one paw.  Other cats shuffled out of his way when he walked down the street. Regrettably, I told my cousins of my fear of this cat.  “Your baby is crying outside for you” they then taunted whenever it wailed.

 There is no conclusion to this post, this is simply a warning from a humble soul. I can only hope documenting these experiences will one day be useful to somebody, but perhaps by then, it will be too late.