Sacrifice

Now I think I understand the sacrifice parents go through for love of the child. I'm referring to a particular food you may really like but if your child loves it, you forego eating it so that he can have extra helpings.

And I don't even have a child - I have only one demanding cat* who thinks the world revolves around him and I am his personal butler, whom I love to excess, whom I spoil against all reason.

I am the type of finicky eater who likes her bread well-buttered - every inch should be slathered thickly with butter or jam. Every spoonful of rice must also have a sliver of meat or fish, vegetable or egg. Every spoonful of noodle should also be accompanied with something which might be a bit difficult to achieve if I was eating out and ordered a bowl of Koay Teow Thng or Prawn Mee. So, when I finish all the "accompaniments", I would have the noodle with a little soup and when I finish the soup, I'd just leave the noodles behind.

My father tells me that when I was a toddler and when he helped to feed me, I would insist every spoonful of porridge be accompanied by a bit of fish meat. "But there's always more porridge than fish no matter how much fish your mother ladled into the bowl, so sometimes I would lie to you that the fish is underneath the porridge in the spoon. You would take it but instead of swallowing, you would move the food around in your mouth, feeling for the fish and when you don't find any fish, you would glare at me accusingly. And at the next spoonful I offer you, you would say adamantly, 'Fih'."

I don't like white bread or white rice. Certain pau (Chinese dumpling) that has very little meat or filling inside it would be nibbled and the white dough be left behind.

When I fry noodles, you'll find all the other ingredients in excess of the noodles itself. When I make myself a sandwich, it sports a ham that is bigger than the slice of bread and it will also have lots of other things so that I would not end up with a mouthful of plain bread.

Somehow or other, Iago is just like me. He is so spoilt he would not eat rice or plain bread or the whites of the pau. He only wants the meat, the chicken, the fish, the ham. Not only is he extremely vocal when demanding I share my food with him, he would stand up on his hindlegs and paw at me. Sometimes when the food is already in my mouth and he finds finds nothing in my hands but realising I'm still chewing, he would hook his claws into my shirt to pull me so that I would bend towards him and he could smell what I'm eating.

Sounds terrible. Sounds like I've got a cat with a discipline problem. But when he is doing it, it is kind of funny and endearing. I couldn't help but laugh and bow to his demands. And sacrifice my ham, meat, fish whatever he likes which I also like.

Nowadays when I prepare my sandwich, I use two slices of ham! All the food that I personally prepare, I would have additional fish or prawn or meat to accommodate him. But if I bring back outside food, then, I would have to pay the price of love and sacrifice.

* NB: This is my "rebound" cat - the kitten Larry picked up from his favorite breakfast place (the Nasi Lemak stall beside the SS2 Police Station) on the 3rd day after I lost Sly. He couldn't stand my weeping 2 nights and 3 mornings in a row. Initially I didn't want to love Iago so much, didn't take too many pictures of him, didn't hug or cuddle him, and locked away Sly's soft toys in a drawer so that he wouldn't "contaminate" it with his scent. Of course he soon found his way into my heart, entrenched himself there in fact and now totally rules the roost. I can date the very first time he hooked himself into my heart.

It was about a fortnight after he had come to stay with us. Larry had bagged me McD's Nuggets for supper. I sat on the sofa in the den and peeled open the BBQ sauce container. Then I opened up the box, took one nugget, dipped it into the sauce, put it into my mouth and bit off half. The smell woke Iago from his nap next door in our room and he ran into the den caterwauling: "Iiiiii-aaaaaaa-u, iiiiii-aaaaaaa-u."

He clambered up onto the sofa by pulling himself up claw over claw (he's still a kitten and hadn't learnt to jump up elegantly). I had quickly closed the box of nuggets and shoved it onto the top of the mini fridge beside the sofa, and popped the other half of the nugget into my mouth. When he stood beside me on the sofa, I showed him my two empty hands. He smelled them, looked up at me chewing with my lips together, and climbed onto one of my thighs, stood up on his hindlegs, reached up with his front paws, claws extended and hooked my blouse and pulled me down so that he could smell my mouth. I had to laugh and I had to share. That established his ritual and my "enslavement".