Little Furrball

Furrball

A cute kitten comes every day.
Initially, I was scared of it.
Black, furry ball with narrow slits,
frightened enough, clawed at me.
Well, I guess the fear in our heads overpowered our ability to see the reality.
She was not a threat, neither was I to her.
Days passed by, and she came everyday.
You know, because she loved milk,
and dad adored her.
I used to watch her drink the milk and leave as soon as she filled her belly,
and returned only at the time of lunch and dinner, ’cause she was hungry.
She had no attachment with us.
but dad was madly in love, that he couldn’t see that she was only using us.

Days became months, and even I fell prey to her beauty.
Beauty of the small things, her playfulness, her purring.
She let go of her fear.
Now, she was my kitten and I was her hooman.
Never really imagined, but she is my furrball,
who goes wild with her yellow ball.

Funny it is, how little creatures can shower magnanimous love,
by doing the little acts of purity and innocence;
reviving the human in us.

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