STOP HAVING BABIES, THANGAMAYIL

Dearest,

This time, you gave birth in the neighbour’s house. The very one I dread talking to. We’ve had an ugly fight, and that’s the place you quietly chose this time? Really? Of all possible spots? You nearly sparked a full-blown diplomatic crisis in the building.

You’ve been through so much. Born into a world that didn’t exactly welcome you with open arms, dodging danger, outliving your siblings, and yet somehow finding your way to me. Curling up like you always belonged here. And you do.

You’re a piece of Kichu that stayed behind, and I can’t explain how, but I feel that in my bones.

But girl, you have to stop having babies. I say this with love and a rising sense of panic. Every time you vanish for a day or two, I start pacing. And when you return with that unmistakably round belly, I know we’re back on the rollercoaster.

You’ve done more than your bit for the feline population. You deserve long naps, lazy sunbeams, chin rubs, and peace, not another round of midnight mews and hiding tiny creatures in impossible corners.

So yes, it’s time we went to the vet.

Mum’s against spaying female cats; dharma and all that. She’s scared of putting you through surgery, pain, or medication. But my logical brain is tired of going in circles. I’m torn, not because I love you any less, but because I love you too much to let this keep happening.

You’re not “just a stray” or “just a cat.” You’re family.

Love,

The hooman who complains loudly but would fight the whole world for you.

(Thangamayil is busy nursing her kittens and remains fiercely private for the next ten days, until she returns to her usual self. The image above is AI-generated.)