The tomcat turns out to be our good old Blite, erstwhile cockroach killer, but now a grizzly uncomely cat, his battle scars all over his dirty face and body, while his front paws and hind legs still sport fresh bite wounds and his neck reddish and smarting from allergic itch. He must have been gorging our neighbor's leftover shrimps and crabs that were casually left in some trash box awaiting the garbage truck.
Oh, yes, our macho cat appears to have fallen for our new neighbor's white feline which looks dandy alright but stupid for taking on our old unwashed Blite.A year ago, we used to cuddle Blite. But now that he has reached full maturity, his voice croaks in that lazy tone of one who appears to be at the top of the pecking order in the neighborhood.
We now have four generations of cats in Merca's brood, with Blite as the oldest and now the ugliest. He is followed by Oying, so called because of some orange spots on her fur. She is the least aggressive and runs at the slightest waving of a stick but returns to rub her whiskers against your ankle in demonstrations of unabashed feline loyalty.
Totoy comes next as a third generation cat after Oying. He openly resents Blite's authority, sometimes taunting him but often ending up sprawled on his back, crying helpless against Blite's menacing claws. Poor Totoy pees and poohs involuntarily, leaving the floor littered with his putrid infernal dung.
The youngest fourth generation love child of Merca, Gaming, is the smallest, cutest, most cuddly young tomcat. He wags his tail like a dog but only after he performs his waste removal ritual under the bamboo sofa or beneath one of the desks, that is, when nobody is looking. He seems impossible to train but he is sensitive to the slightest signs of ill temper or flare-ups of irritation.
His lack of toilet manners has earned him his present sleeping quarters at the back of the kitchen outside the apartment, inside an old lavabo, with old cartons as bed covers and three tarpaulin posters as roof. There he sleeps with Oying. On early mornings, I often catch them huddled with each other, sharing each other's warmth. I'm sure when he grows older, he too will be contesting Blite's and Totoy's territorial supremacy claims. When that day comes, I'll be witnessing deadly animal territorial disputes and their infernal dung strewn all over the place.
As usual, Merca, their ageless matriarch disappears for two to three days, then pops up outside the window when she goes home to eat. I'm sure she has a lover somewhere for her tummy has a new bulge - telltale signs of her fifth generation. How I wish she'd stop flirting and grow old in peace.
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