the cat i left in Sydney

u know you got it bad when you are even concerned if your boyfriend’s cat likes you or not.

“she likes you, baby. he just doesn’t rub himself against anybody’s leg just like that.” zsolt said, repeating a fact he already told me over and over again since i came back from OZ.

if you have met Viggo you would understand he isn’t a normal cat. he uses his paws like they were his fingers and he always demands for his afternoon walk. he is, of course, only as strange as his master. and having said that, it makes you wonder somehow if there is a possibility that this relationship of mine is dysfunctional.

i told zsolt a couple of nights back i kinda miss viggo as much as i miss doing stuff with him. it shocked the poor guy.

funny how romance gives you a different lens to look at the world from. i never liked pets; i couldn’t stand them, really. i find them such a burden and they really are. they’re almost like raising a baby that will never grow up. perhaps, the whole thing about companionship with someone or something that adores you blindly is something i haven’t had an opportunity to experience. perhaps, because there was never a need in the past.

i do not know if i would miss viggo now if he happened to be someone else’s cat. perhaps, there is something about adoring the same man and being owned by the same guy that binds two forces together. and you know what’s my most favourite Sydney memory? it is viggo running to the door to meet zsolt as he opens it and get in. and zsolt bending down to greet viggo. and viggo running back to the lounge room where i was sitting, jumping to the sofa and waiting for zsolt to appear. and zsolt smiling upon seeing the two of us together, bending down to kiss me, and then taking a seat on the sofa with us.

do not ask me to explain why.

some things, in their simplicity, makes one happy.

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