I also had a tabby cat. Its name was Baoya. Before I adopted it, it was a stray cat. When Baoya first came to my home, it was very thin. It was only about five or six months old at that time. On the first day it arrived, it behaved extremely smartly. I let it out of the cat bag. Seeing that the environment was unfamiliar, it immediately hid under the bed. Half an hour later, after confirming that the environment was not dangerous, it rushed out right away, rolling around in front of my sister and me continuously, and rubbing its body against our calves. That night, it kept acting cute. Maybe it felt so happy that it finally had a home.
Later, Baoya’s various behaviors made us all feel that it was no ordinary cat. In order to play with my sister, it stepped on a stool in the middle of the night to open my sister’s door; when it was angry, it would resist and then take revenge wantonly. If it was angry with someone, it would pee on that person’s bed; when it saw my sister and me arguing, it would try to stop the fight. It meowed at me and then jumped onto me, and then went to my sister and meowed at her.
We were amused by it several times; it could sense my parents coming home even before they got to the building. It would run down from the sixth floor to greet them. As soon as my parents opened the door on the first floor, it would roll around and rub against them, and then follow them upstairs meowing (it would go downstairs to greet them every time my parents went out); to show its gratitude, it often brought back all kinds of “trophies” from outside, like sparrows, birds, geckos, mice, bats and various insects.
Once, when I called it, it was so excited to see me that it accidentally fell from the sixth floor. But somehow, it managed to roll in the air, hitting an obstacle first and then falling to the ground, avoiding more serious injury. Right after falling, it ran home. Fortunately, it didn’t die and miraculously survived.
It was once locked up by an old man for a few days when it went out. During that time, it didn’t eat anything at the old man’s house. It just wanted to go home and kept meowing by the old man’s window, asking us to save it. When we got it back, it jumped into our arms, meowing all the time, as if it was afraid that it wouldn’t be able to come back.
It had been with us for five years like this. Until one night, it ran out again. Around ten o’clock the next morning, my father found it. Its lower body was limp, its eyes were closed, and it had no breath. It had been hit by a bad person with a hammer or some other sharp weapon, and its internal organs were shattered. It must have been in great pain before it died. After all, it wasn’t killed instantly but died slowly after being tortured. The smart little Baoya would never come back! This is also one of the regrets in my life. I didn’t take good care of it.
I didn’t expect that this answer commemorating my cat would attract the attention of kind-hearted people. I have been constantly reflecting on the issue of free-range cats. I even yelled at my parents and sister on the phone because of this. As for whether it’s a story or real, I’ll attach a video. This was taken when I came home after working in another place. This is also the last short video of it. I hope it can be happy for the rest of its life in the next reincarnation…
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