Bonsai

Bonzai was the last and smallest cat in a litter of three born in the garage of the building. From his early days was surly, hiding from people, to the extreme of only eating his meals after you moved away. Thus he grew and his mother died and his siblings were adopted by other neighbors, and he has stayed with us as a collective cat. He slept in the garage or in the nearby kindergarten and, later, at the opening of the door of the building, he became the owner of the premises on the fourth floor. Breakfast, lunch and dinner on the landing of the stairs, at the entrance to our apartment. There also we kept a pot with fresh water. He adored milk and after breakfast he waited patiently. Then he would wander around until lunch and repeat the process with dinner. At night he had his adventures and often returned wounded and abused, becoming an odyssey to be able to cure him.

So he left behind one and then another of his lives and so became more sedentary. One day a small black and white kitten turned up at the garage and we baptized her Wampi, and after he accepted her they became great friends. They played, ate and slept together. Wampi breathed new life into him and he would look for her in her hiding places when she disappeared. They acted like siblings. One day Bonzai disappeared and with the help of Wampi we found him crippled, unable to use his back leg. We fed and cared for him against all odds, and he recovered and impetuously climbed the stairs of the building, the same as always, even though we knew that he maybe only had one life left.

Time passed and one day I found him in the garden, without the strength climb the stairs to eat. I picked him up with care, as he was always so surly, and put him in the room on the fourth floor. I fed him, but every day he was weaker. I realized that he was living his final days. So passed two and then a third, cherished by me, he purred weakly and died at noon. I wrapped him in the cloth that served as his bed and dug a hole in the ground of the hall of the building, where he’d played with his siblings as a kitten and put him in it. This is his grave. Born, lived and died, with us. I think that, although he was small in size, hence his name, he was a cat who enjoyed his seven lives happily. Now, in cat heaven, he must have met his mother and siblings and greeted Putica and Falcor, his close neighbors, in dog heaven.

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