Sevda Khatamian | Lazy Letter: The First Time They Purr
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Lazy Letter: The First Time They Purr

 It somehow reminded me of the night where I was sitting at the bar alone. Sipping water, I was trying to avoid beer or any other alcoholic beverage as long as I could. I was drinking rather more frequently back then, and it didn’t have a pleasant effect on my body. It’s one of those habits I dislike the most, yet can’t really keep away; I’m tricked by the evil power of alcohol every time. The only help it does is that it passes by the time more happily once everybody’s consumed a good amount of drinks. Well, for most of the times, most of the times.

You must’ve been busy with something or one of your friends, you weren’t at the bar, so you didn’t realize when that drunk girl sat next to me. She was half drunk, she said she’d just thrown up. She ordered a beer, and asked me to go dancing with them. But there was zero alcohol in my system at the moment, and I was too chilled to move my person. 

She sat next to me. She looked incredibly pale, her eyes seemed unfocused. Although she kept insisting on going dancing and ending the night at the local disco, she managed to tell me about her job, and what she does for a living. Well, her work didn’t really provide her any income, and she was working as a volunteer. So that doesn’t really count as a job. She looked after homeless cats and took care of them, mostly the ill ones. Doesn’t that sound naive?!

She talked a lot. Mainly since she was drunk, I think. At some point, I found myself sipping a cold beer, smiling at her face, trying so hard to listen and understand; it was hard to catch on. She stopped making sense after a while, and she just jumped back and forth from one topic to another. She talked about one thing, went back to her dance offer at the disco, and then spoke about another thing. She talked a lot, you see! I looked around the room to see if I’d find you; I could absolutely use some help there.

But among all that, something was sincere about her. How nice of her to help those cats! How thoughtful of her! She said she fed them, brushed them, and made sure they took their medication right. I could never do that. Never ever in a billion years. It takes a lot of generosity and courage to dedicate your life and time and energy to animals who are destined to live on the street, to be a hobo. She said the most fascinating feeling is when she hugged a cat and they purred for the first time. “When they purr to you” she kept saying as she hugged her chest. I think she said that sentence is one hundred different forms in about five minutes.

Anyway, Rita is napping on my lap now, and she’s purring heavily. I’m house-sitting for a friend, to take care of her cat while she’s on holidays. Rita, that’s her name, although she more looks like a Fifi. She’s purring her butt out as I’m giving her a bit of a massage. She’s a sweet cat, and she’s about six or seven months old. She sleeps during the day, and starts playing around as soon as the sun sets. She’s young and very energetic. She’d turn the house upside down if I don’t play with her. She gets tired after ten minutes of an intense yarn ball game around the living room. So, she naps next to me if I were sitting on the couch, or she’d sit on the table if I were working. There have been only a few cats who truly purred to me, and licked my fingertips to thank me in return. I’ve never really realized the moment, I guess.

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