A Hundred Years of Solitude

Houdi, my rescue, is trying me again. And I can't help it.

Oh boy, there she goes again! I'm trying to keep up but it's impossible. Her new thing is hide and seek; used to be tag, but she got bored with that one, and this is her new way of torturing me. She is obsessed with it. And it's nonstop. Unfortunately, we just moved, so there are literally hundreds of places to hide, and she's a cat! Lord, have mercy! We need to get rid of the boxes ASAP bc those are her preferences. To hide in between them. Even worse; if I don't want to play, she finds me and pokes me quickly as a reminder that I can only quit when she says so. Not before.

Ignoring her is the worst thing I can do. The consequences are unending, and I'd have to listen again about how lonely she is without a boyfriend, and what a terrible person I am for not allowing her to get and keep one. I've been in that situation and I'm not looking for an encore. Not now, not ever!

So, this is my destiny. My life is ruled by Houdi, my rescue kitten. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Last time, I was trying to entertain some friends and celebrate my new pad at the old pad, and of course, Houdi was not only present but she decided to be the most important presence there. She heard and sensed the “awws" and “ohhs" from among the guests and seduced them first in record time. Before I knew it, she had them all under her spell. She's absolutely gorgeous and adorable, so it's impossible not to succumb to her charming ways, no matter how much you wish to resist. It's no use.

I tried the best hors d’oeuvre, crackers too, top-notch wines, even some decent jokes to no avail. Once she decided to be the centre of attention, she was. Oh, they appreciated my offerings, but only as an added attraction to the main attraction. Houdi herself.

She did all her tricks, a one-cat show, really. She butted her head against their legs; she showed off her gymnastic abilities using all the stairs on the walls jumping from one to the next in mind-blowing speed and then stopping in place, staring at one of the guests, like saying, “did you catch that?". If that wasn't cute enough, she would do her show finale by turning upside down, paws bent, staring at her next candidate. After receiving a collective “Aww…Wooow!”, she would casually start licking her front paw to wrap things up to the absolute delight of everyone watching.

I shouldn't complain. I got the most sincere congratulations from all my now-typsy friends for making the soiree a well-done job. The one-cat show was a memorable one and I kept on getting calls weeks afterwards, not to ask me about my inconsequential life, but to inquire about hers.

I wouldn't have it any other way. Cats, you see, are part companion, part philosopher. Houdi isn’t just playing games — she’s running a full psychological operation. A furry Jungian archetype in action. She teaches dominance through silence, attention through mischief, love through borderline tyranny.

I sometimes wonder if she was Cleopatra in a past life. It would explain the entitlement. The dramatic entrances. The fan base. Also the constant need for tribute in the form of tuna. It's happened before. I was prepared.

When we are chilling, and maybe watching TV, I must be super careful. When the images show cats, she immediately notices and comes running to tell me how much she's missing the action. There are no meows, no moves, no licking or stretching. Just a loud and longing purrrrr that goes on forever and always reminds me of Garcia Marquez’ “A Hundred Years of Solitude".

But I know her. I know her quite well. The last time, we invited a paramour for her to play with, they plotted together an escape to the city below and almost succeeded. We had to climb the fire escape outside like Spider Men to collect them, much to their disgruntled disapproval. Eleven stories up, mind you!

Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. It's the bane of my existence—just like she's the biggest love of my life.

Some things take time to reveal their true value. Houdi showed up as a rescue but turned out to be a mirror, a mentor, and the queen of this castle. She reminds me, daily, that joy isn’t something you chase; it’s something that pounces on you when you least expect it… usually from behind a stack of moving boxes.

So yes, my life is ruled by a tiny, purring tyrant with acrobatic flair and zero boundaries. But that’s the price of love. And fur. Lots and lots of fur.

Until we meet again,

Love and light, ❤️ 🗽

René

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