Every day, a cat sits in front of my gate, indifferent to the heavy rain or the wet ground.
He seems to lack enthusiasm for life, and his age shows. I’ve noticed him whimpering or not even fighting when other cats take his food.
Our neighborhood, a cluster of tightly packed houses, offers little space for wandering, yet this cat has found every nook and corner—sometimes to sleep, sometimes just staring into space.
Each morning, he sits on my porch, watching the kids run to school. Even the fishmonger knows him.
When other cats fight, he waits patiently, knowing he’ll get a piece of food if he bides his time. He’s become a silent spectator in our daily lives, an observer of our bustling mornings. Despite the chaos, he gets by with little to no stress.
Perhaps it’s old-age wisdom, the result of enduring life’s hardships.
But I’ve never seen him with a partner or a family, leaving me to wonder if he’s truly happy behind his stoic expression. The introspective part of me constantly ponders the feelings he carries each day, lying around with no one waiting on him.
Does it mean he is happy and content?
Maybe he’s above us mere humans.
Or perhaps he’s a Sigma Cat-King who has figured out that nothing really matters.
Or maybe he is lonely and is waiting for someone to pet him?
(Afraid of cats, especially stray ones- so I wouldn’t test this on my own)
Let me log this thought here.
For me and him it is not dark yet, let us stay in each other’s existence for now.