September 3, 2026
All rights reserved by the author
Every evening at exactly seven, our cat, Momo, begins her inspection of the kitchen.
She does not meow or scratch the door. She simply appears beside whoever is cooking and watches with the serious expression of a supervisor who has discovered several irregularities.
Yesterday, my wife was making fish.
Momo sat near the kitchen door.
My wife ignored her.
Momo moved closer.
Still ignored.
Then she placed one paw gently on my wife’s slipper.
“Don’t encourage her,” I said.
“I am not,” my wife replied.
Momo looked at me.
I looked away.
A few minutes later, my wife quietly dropped a tiny piece of fish into her bowl.
Momo ate it, licked her whiskers and walked away with the dignity of a restaurant critic who had finally received satisfactory service.
At seven-thirty, she returned and sat beside me.
I understood immediately.
Apparently, Momo had discovered an important household principle: if one human refuses to feed you, there are always other humans available for negotiation.
I gave her another small piece.
She purred.
My wife shook her head.
Momo closed her eyes, already dreaming of tomorrow’s menu.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
email : rajatchandrasarmah
website : www.rajatchandrasarmah.com
