A cat called China

This one's for you, China, wherever you may be.

He began life as a bedraggled kitten in the early 90s, scouring the tough streets of Chinatown - hence his name. He was picked up and adopted by a couple who were in the area for dinner one night. The woman, Auntie A, was my human's sister.

The dark grey-brown tabby was brought home to their cosy sixth-floor apartment in Newton, where he grew up to be a really handsome cat. He often looked like he was pursing his lips. Everything about his face was sharp-featured, and he had a long, completely perfect tail [unlike me and most of Singapore's "drain cats", who have a kink].

China was there as the couple did up their home. He was there when they welcomed their first baby. He moved with them when they put up the Newton apartment for rent and went to live in a highrise just off Orchard Road.

Most of us would have heard of horror stories about cats [or pet dogs] who, in a fit of jealousy upon the arrival of a baby, would bite or otherwise hurt the child. Not China. He watched silently - he didn't meow much - with his liquid hazel eyes as the couple grew into their roles as parents.

China never lacked for attention though, despite the new baby being around. He was Family, and much loved for his quiet ways.

And as the couple's little girl grew into a toddler, she would treat China as a miniature horse, or pull his tail. But China never retaliated, the gentleman that he was. He was also popular with the little girl's granddad, who would often bring him dried scallops as snacks. [Hey, they are Cantonese. Of course they always have a stock of these morsels at home for chucking into soups.]

One day, at the ripe old age of 15, China walked out the front door of his 10th floor home into the lift landing ... and never came back. The door to the fire-escape staircase was open that day and he must have gone downstairs that way, or gotten lost in one of the lower floors.

Auntie A was and still is really upset. It has been almost three months and she has stopped hoping he would pad back through their front door.

She checked with the development's security guard-cum-car-washer, who confirmed that he had carried a cat matching China's description to the ground floor after some neighbours had alerted him to a collar-less cat wandering on their floor.

That probably set the stage for China to get lost, Auntie A reckoned, in tears. How was he to find his way home when left in the grounds of the housing estate? He's old, unused to having to fend for himself, though he seemed otherwise healthy. [Fine, so he sometimes limped a bit, but he was old...]

Maybe he knew it was "time"? Some frantic online searches were done into cats and their impending death. It wasn't conclusive, but there is anecdotal evidence that some cats do hide or go away when they think their time has come.

Maybe it was so for China. Rest in peace, ol' boy, if you have gone to play among the Big Catnip In The Sky. [But if you haven't, maybe St Francis of Assisi will bring you home soon to that 10th-floor apartment off Orchard Road. It still is your home.]