Our Cat Eats Her Kittens

Yemenat

Ahmed Saif Hashed

We had a small black cat with a hint of white that made her look beautiful and captivating. Her fur was shiny and soft like silk. Her legs appeared as if they were marked with white, and the white on her forehead gave her the majesty of a horse and the pride of a knight. The white in her neck added to her grace and dignity. Her eyes were round, yellow, and vibrant, like two moons on the night of fullness. The blackness of her fur granted her radiance and charm. More than that, she had an overwhelming tenderness and affection.

She would playfully nuzzle me, joke with me, and scratch my hand. If I left her, she would gently try to bring me back to her with pleading eyes and a hope that could soften stone. When I returned home, she would greet me with warmth and a welcoming enthusiasm overflowing with longing. I would see her circling around my feet, rubbing against my ankles. Her gentle meows, filled with love and pleading, stirred a torrent of affection in me, urging me to respond with intimacy, which she wanted to confirm by repetition.

I loved her, and she loved me, creating a bridge of affection between us. She grew up, and her strength flourished, serving the family’s purpose of keeping the mice that crept into our home at bay.

* * *

One day, shortly after giving birth, I witnessed something I found hard to believe. She did something unimaginable—our cat was eating her own kittens! At first, I denied what I saw. How could a cat eat her own young when she should instinctively protect them from any threat or harm?

I saw her face twisted in horror, her mouth smeared with blood. I