Jingga - September 2012 to 22 April 2014

Jingga, with Jack behind him, having a meal. Rest in Peace, Jingga

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Jingga died today. We had to put him to sleep. He has been unwell these last few months – we took him to a vet previously and he had to stay back for a week and when he came back, he never recovered. When we first saw him, he was a dirty, scrawny little kitten, with blackened paws and snout. He’d hide in car engines compartments, yes, car engines compartments, to hide from larger cats and animals, that’s the only reason I could think of why he did that. I heard a cat meowed but I could not find any so I surmised correctly that he was in the engine compartment of Lina’s car. We took him to a vet, gave him food, put him in the cage for his safety and we thought we’d do that till he’s big enough to take care of himself and after that, away he goes. Not a chance, we were his. He stayed. But he never outlived his welcome. 

 

Jingga was the exact opposite of Jack. Jack loves to have his stomach stroked, patted or touched. Not Jingga, his paw would slash out faster than you could say kitty henever we touched his tummy. Jack hardly ever meows – he’d meow when I play hide and seek with and when he wants desperately to get out of his cage but Jingga would start meowing even before he reaches the door. Meowing as he enters the door, as he walks through the house towards his favourite past time, the rubbish bin in the kitchen. Without fail. Every time. He might turn his head a wee bit and throw a quick glimpse on the way but it was a very quick glimpse for he has to see what is there to dine upon in the kitchen rubbish bin. Jack was supposed to be indoor cat and Jingga was supposed to be the outdoor cat but whenever we open the door, Jack would rush out and Jingga would stay in. We’d call Jack home at dusk but it was usually Jingga who answered. We’d call him Jing or Jinx at times. The little girls next door called him Jingles. 

 

Jingga was the tomcat of the neighbourhood. Which was probably his undoing. When he was adult enough, with his square tomcatty face, without fail he would come home with scratches and wounds on his body. When he was a kitten and Jack was all grown up, they’d fight playfully and I can see that he could take as well as he could give. Jack was three times his size and Jack thrashed him every time but he would come back for more. True enough, when he was fully grown, Jack could not handle him. Both of them could not be in the house at the same time. At times, he would enter the house, saw Jack on top of the piano and before anyone could do anything, he’d be on his way to torment Jack. Jack would usually end up being wedged between the piano and the wall. 

Lina says Jingga “menghiburkan”, he entertains us. He loves it when we stroke his head – his eyes would be closed, he’d be purring like a chainsaw and persistently pressing his head onto our hands. He’d often go to Lina and offer his head. Now, who could refuse that. Whenever he drinks, his right leg would be off the floor – he’s do a shimmy with his legs and he’d end up with one leg off the ground while drinking.  

During his last fews weeks, he did make some attempts to raid the rubbish bin, but even then he was too weak to stand on his hind feet to do so. I am crying as I am writing this, I am going to miss him. His gait, his meows, his rubbish bin raids and his sharp claws.  

Rest in Peace Jingga. We love you. We always will.

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