Muning: a love story

Here's a story written by my bunso, Alina, when she was a seventh-grader and which won the grand prize in the RCBC Kuwentong Kalikasan ng Kabataan competition sometime in the late 1990s.

It was summer when Muning entered our lives. Our team just won a game of kickball, and we rested on a stump on a vacant lot behind our house. As the sky darkened, we watched the first stars appear. Then we heard it -- "Meow."

Big blue eyes on a black and white face peered at us from behind the aratilis tree. I'll never forget how it looked when it went near -- half frightened, half eager. It licked my hands as I bent to touch it. I nodded when my Ate Mayet said: "Let's take it home."

Mama, who didn't like pets at home, but always gave in when we begged, didn't say much when we she saw Muning. She merely said: "If you want it, you have to take care of it." She reminded us that Aling Nelly, our helper, had enough to do as it was. We promised, crossing our hearts. None of our four brothers gave Muning a second look. The new found pet was all ours -- Ate Mayet's and mine.

We spent the next weeks fussing over Muning. At first, it was a cuddly kind of play -- we stroke her and she licked us. She twisted herself like a snake when she wanted play. She pressed her body against our legs when she wanted cuddling. But soon Muning tired of that and wanted rough and tumble. She got into the habit of leaping at us when we were unaware. Maybe her kitten claws got itchy and she relieved it by scratching furniture. Maybe her teeth got itchy too and she took to biting us a little. She was just being playful but sometimes her games hurt.

One day, she bit me harder than she intended to. I took my finger to Mama for inspection. "There's no wound but Muning should behave," Mama said sharply, looking at the torn sofa.

Ate Mayet wanted to take Muning to a cat psychiatrist. In the States, there were doctors for neurotic cats, she said. She searched the Yellow Pages and asked all our titas. But no one knew of one.

Summer was about to end the day we lost Muning.

I was in bed with my stuffed dog. Suddenly, a jealous Muning jumped at us and scratched Snoopy, causing foam bits to fly. I boxed Muning's ear and she scratched my face. Her claws almost caught my right eye. My cries brought Mama running into the room.

The mixture of tears and blood on my face scared Mama. "I want Muning out of this house this minute." She shouted orders to Kuya Allan. He was to put Muning inside a big bag and take her somewhere far from home. I wanted to protest but my face was on fire with the medicine Mama applied.

When Ate came home and found Muning gone, she cried and cried. She blamed me, she blamed Mama, blamed Kuya Allan, blamed the Philippines for not having cat psychiatrists. I cried too. Some of my tears were for Muning, others were for my sad and angry sister who vowed never to talk to me again. That night, we both cried ourselves to sleep.

As my wound healed, I forgot Muning. But Ate Mayet couldn't. She was quiet and sad for days. She ate little and talked less.

Mama worried. One day, she took me aside, whispering: "You know I might have acted too fast about Muning."

That night, at the special request portion" of our family prayer, Mama said aloud: "Lord if Muning would not hurt my children again, please let us find her again."

I was thankful when school opened and Ate began to talk to me again. One afternoon, on our way home, I glanced outside the bus and saw blue eyes among green grass. "Is that Muning," I asked doubtfully. "Yes, yes!" said Ate. "Stop, please stop Mang Roger!" she called out to the driver. But Mang Roger drove on.

Reaching home, we dumped our things and went out again, pulling Aling Nelly with us. We searched the place where we thought we saw Muning but couldn't find her.

We looked some more. In an alley, three boys cheered as they dunked an object into a canal, as it wriggled and meowed. Muning! -- we cried. Aling Nelly shooed the boys away.

Muning was cleaned up and fed when Mama arrived home from work. She smiled when we told her what happened. "God answered our prayers, didn't He?"

I guess her bad experience cured Muning. She became a normal cat. Today, she is a good and gentle Mama to four kittens. And you know what, we also have two dogs, seven hamsters, eight ducks and 14 pigeons. Our cousins call our yard a mini zoo and they always come to visit. Mama still doesn't like pets but she loves it when children care for and enjoy them.

I call it a love story -- do you agree? And do you see how such love has blessed the beasts and the children -- and their moms too?