My brother has his Charlie, the next-door cat who has adopted my brother and trained him so that every time Charlie utters a meow my brother hastens with a cup of full-cream milk.
I was free from such tyranny till I took pity on the scrawny little kitten who has rifling through my garbage bag. It is, I think, progeny of one of the cats whom Alpana was feeding.
I fed it a bread piece on that day. The next day it landed up once more and once again I felt sorry for it. I gave it a bread piece.
Today it landed up again. I was watering the garden when it made an appearance. It meowed loudly to attract my attention. I went to the kitchen to check on the bread but it had got fungus. I came out and explained to it the problem and promised bread the next day. But it was not satisfied with my explanation. Sitting outside the door, it kept up its meowing, at times scolding me for my tardiness. So I took out a beaker, poured milk and gave it.
I now fear that I too have been trained.
NOTE: I have no name for the cat. Suggestions are welcome.
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