This is another cat picture I adore so much.

Buti pa sila may katabi matulog. Hehehe!

And don't you think, they look so human in this picture. Just like a mother cuddling her little one. Reminds me somewhat of the Mommy and BB in Kill Bill.

Wala lang.

I love felines! It could possibly be because my zodiac sign is Leo (ooh… birthday coming up soon!). But then again, there isn’t any connection.

They have the perfect size for cuddling. That is if they let you. I once came upon a cat and dog comparison in Reader’s Digest that went something like this:

“If you feed, shelter and care for a dog, they think you are god. If you feed, shelter and care for a cat, they think they are a god.”

Tee-hee-hee! How true!

These creatures are so fascinating. Domestic cats, even when they become adults, remain to be cute and cuddly. Unlike some dogs, who like human beings, may lose their charm and cuteness when hormones kick in (nonetheless, they remain to be lovely creatures as they have kinder and more grateful hearts than any creature I know). It must be the cat’s size, which at full grown stage, is about the same size as an infant. Something I picked up from National Geographic.

I used to have a cat named Kim. He’s a male except our helper who worked in Thailand named him and she is scary woman. I would have preferred to name Kim something like Thunder or Muning (ang labo!).

We had to get Kim (by the way, that cat up there, he isn’t Kim. He’s just something I got from the e-mail) to deal with our mice problem when we living in the poor (as in almost squatter-like) side of Makati. My family has tried Dora rat killer, mouse traps, fly paper yet they still proliferate like… well, rodents. You wake up in the morning, groggily go to the bathroom and are greeted with the sight of a mouse swimming in the bath water and even worse the toilet bowl. EUW! I cringe at the memory. EUW!

So when Kim arrived… bam, bam, bam! Dead mice all over the place. Not as much scurrying. Not as much squeaking. Yipee! Except whenever I see the poor rodents, I’d scream, “aaaaaaaaaahhhh! Dad-dddddeeeeeeeh! Kooooooo-yaaaaaaah!” and run as far away as possible.

When we transferred to Paranaque, Kim continued using his predatory skills. We’d wake up in the morning greeted by bodies of mice by the doorstep. Contrary to Tom and Jerry folklore, cats don’t eat mice. They just hunt them for play. And apparently, according to another National Geographic docu, dead creatures brought by cats are sign of thanks. Uh, welcome then. Uh… Excuse me while I run to the nearest toilet bowl. Euw.

Ah well, my love affair with cats waned when Kim disappeared to die. He may have gotten some disease from strays because during the last days we were together *sniff, sniff*, he was awfully skinny and weak. When he never came back, I knew he went off some place for a dignified death. I preferred it that way. There wasn’t any yard we could have buried him in.

Sudden death came to my relationship with cats after I had my first taste of alcohol when I was sixteen. That was when I realized I was allergic to it. Damn shit. How unlucky can I get. After that, any contact with the felines, got me sneezing and sniffing and puffy.

Waaaaah!

And so that’s that.

Uh, this entry doesn’t seem to have much of a point.

One of my friends sent me this picture. It was Buwi’s wedding and she was invited by his sister who happens to be her good friend.

Why did she send me the picture? Because she knows I have the biggest crush on one of them. Actually, ever since I have been in Davao, I have not thought much about them except to enjoy their music whenever I’m in the mood to be silly.

But this picture… this damn picture got me crushin’ on him again. Together with the information my spy has given. He was the only one in the band who didn’t have a girlfriend with him. Most of the night, he didn’t have anyone to talk to. Omigod. That could have been my chance! We could have talked about Robotech and valkyrie fighters! I could have asked him about his Robotech collection! I could ask him about life back when he wasn’t in the band yet.

Argh. I suddenly missed watching their gigs in Bistro again. I suddenly missed the feeling of just staring at him, giggling to myself for thinking him cute because he just sits still while the rest of the band act silly and crazy. I’d snicker at the memory of him singing “Don’t Touch My Birdie” and struggling with all his might not to laugh at the innuendoes. He was just the cutest things then.

I think I’m in-love again. Silly me. I need some bopping on the head.

“Hello, Earth to valkyrie! Rock star? No hope? Wake up?” *bop, bop, bop*

Pero libre naman ang mangarap eh.

Sometimes when in a dark room, all you need to do is open the door and get out.

Wanda Jude or Ea, is the latest addition to my older sister's brood. The fifth and last of the bunch (to make sure, she had ligation). Isn't she a beaut!?

Her kids are spaced two years apart, unintentionally. None of the five were planned. But all of them are beautiful, precocious children who have brought sunshine and joy (and soiled diapers, fiery tempers, too) to every house they lived in.

The first four - Nonay, Yano, One and Eo - I took part in caring for. That was before my sister moved to Cebu with her husband to establish their medical careers. (My sis is one of the 64 neuropediatricians [or is it pedianeurologists?] in the country.)

All of them, I stared at when they were asleep. All of them, I carried and fed and burped, changed diapers and played with.

The tight hugs when you get home from work that took away the tired feeling. The kiddie conversations that make you realize that you might just have taken the world for granted as you mature. The cute, chiming laughter of children's voices that ring melodiously in your ears. There are many, many things I miss about having kids around the house. And a part of me feels bad of not being able to take part of Ea's life. How I long to go to Cebu and do my share in caring for her. I'd gladly play nanny to her if I could.

Maybe I was Maria Von Trapp in my past life, minus the singing voice. :p

But then I dread the role of real mother. Of not being enough of a woman to take responsibility of one from my own flesh. Of not being enough of a provider to make sure they have everything they need.

Though I seriously think that not a lot of mothers ever felt ready to take care of a child. That motherhood just unfurls itself everyday. That mistakes are made and lessons are learned. That you just hope you don't mess up the life of your child in the future.

Oh well.

At this point, I just miss being Tita Gie.