Walking home, so jaded, I found myself strolling along side with this little thing. For that particular fifteen minutes, it took my troubles away. I realized I was giggling aloud as I played this silly game of come-run-after-me. Like I was laughing from the heart.

How could I resist the charms of such an adorable baby when it kept coming after me, wanting to snuggle on my laps and rubbing itself against my ankles to get my attention? It was a challenge itself to get that little thing to keep still for a second. I couldn't capture a nicer picture. But I gotten myself a couple of small scratches as it pawed my ankles. Chill baby. These are my quite-nice long legs you are pawing here. One thing about playing with a stray - I forgot that nobody's been trimming its nails. Then this sudden urge of wanting to bring it home with me seized me.

I want to protect you! I can carry you home, bathe you, feed you and then... return you back to where I found you. Can I?

No, I wouldn't want to let it go should it ever enters my bode. Then again, this comes with a responsibility of caring for it until... it decides that it loathes me and runs away from home (I hate to use the word die). I recalled the pms* of my room. I thought this little baby would be better off surviving under HDB blocks and bushes than residing with me.

I left it looking at me as I backed away. It followed me quickly. I hastened my steps. It ran a few steps toward me before stopping, its eyes gleaming in the dark. Shite. Why does it always have to end this way?

*pms - perpetual messy state

missybe is an incidental blogger who adores animals more than her next-door neighbour's kids. She's been longing to volunteer at the SPCA. But Mount Vernon damn far siah...we'll see.