The tale of a scrawny cat

So a cat appeared at the back door’s steps of the kitchen today while my family was sitting together in its rare entirety for lunch. It’s a scrawny yellow/orange/white cat, probably orphaned in the usual sob stories when its mother got run over by a human’s nasty machine with four fat wheels.

My mum wanted to throw some pork from the porridge we were eating – and so did I – but dad cautioned us not to because “it’ll come back again next time at the same place at the same time”. In my perfectly brought up logic and compassion, giving a thin cat raged with hunger some food isn’t wrong. Why do you imagine people actually donate stuffs to charities, help those savaged by Katrina and tsunami, AIDS-afflicted people, etc? (and why, I even donated last few weeks when an odd-looking Indian guy appeared and appealed me to donate to some charity. Don’t know whether I’m doing it to get rid of him, or something.)

Because we want to help, and regardless whether they’re humans or otherwise.

So I retorted sarcastically, “How very encouraging.” That didn’t make sense, but I was eating and reading newspaper at the same, and guys have been proven the least able to do multi-tasking, like eating, reading, and quarelling all at the same time. Bro said something like “and you call yourself a Buddhist.” Heh.

In the end mum and I gave the cat some food.

Not that, you know, I wanna criticise my dad or anything. Figured I should stop all this ‘I-hate-my-family’ public display and say something good for once.

1. My parents allow me to apply for the Exchangee programme, to go to somewhere else next December. Prolly Japan.
2. Dad said ‘OK’ to me going to the prefect’s dinner with their money.

I had several plans to fall back on, one of them being withdrawing money out of the bank (which, incidentally, only recently my youngest brother Brandon tore my bank book to pieces, which I didn’t reprimand/slap/shout/shriek at him even though I’d like to do so). Because it’s our final year. Thought I should savior it. Or something.

Even now, I’m as undecided as a bowling ball whether to go to college or Form 6 (parents are encouraging the latter—because they thought I’m doing better than my bro, and thus bro needs the money more than me to go to college. Wtf :)). Either way, I think I’d just force myself into Arts. Mass Comm. Or something.

At the same time, I couldn’t imagine myself being in a new environment all over again. Making new friends. Honestly, if there’s one thing harder to do than chatting with strangers freely, it will be… hitting on other people, but that’s besides the question. Sigh, I’m gonna miss you mad people.