Tai Lung

Growing up I had this big black cat that randomly found its way into our house. We were (are) Africans, we don’t pick up cats from a shelter and bring them home like babies from the hospital. We let stray ones come in, beat them up while calling them all sorts of mystical names, believing they are associated with witchcraft, and the ones that survive all that beating become the family’s cats. It is like tradition. A way of life; adoption by beating.

That is how Tai Lung became ours.

We named the cat Tai Lung because our favorite cartoon villain at the time was a snow leopard in Kung Fu Panda called Tai Lung. And they both had that villain-ish aura around them. Tai Lung (our cat) had thick, black, shimmering fur when he arrived. Deep yellow eyes that would reflect scarily under a torch at night. Scary-looking cat, that one. As kids, we found fun in beating up the poor guy. We had been told a black cat is a sign of bad omen. I mean, who would want a black beast hovering around the house and curling around your feet?

But Tai Lung was determined. He was a stray cat; no home, no kin. Yet, surprisingly, he was well built and chubby. He seemed to be living a good life in the streets.

We only realized he was not a “he” when she got fatter and moodier. Now she could take the beatings with a straight face and look down at us with a scary growl that started to frighten us. My brother and I told our parents that something was wrong with Tai Lung.

My brave father, who did not entertain the nonsense of associating black things with witchcraft, picked up the pregnant cat—a taboo at the time. We all gasped! We wanted him to wash his hands with a lot of soap immediately before doing anything else. He confirmed to us that not only was Tai Lung a “she”, but also pregnant. We couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, we were compassionate and caring to the poor ma’am. We built her a cozy home inside a shoebox with cotton and old clothes we could find. We even made sure to feed her at the foot of the family table as we ate our supper. We ate together, as the new and surprising family we had become.

Apparently, we also had a dog at the time. Both we and our neighbors, the Kodongos, had dogs. They had this big alpha male dog called Rocky. I mean, isn’t that what everyone calls their dog if not Rex? When I get a dog in the future—a beautiful Golden Retriever or a German Shepherd—I will not give it the generic names everyone does. You need to have a personal connection with your dog. Don’t name it like any Bosco around.

Anyway, I don’t remember the breed of our dog. It was thin and long, also with dark fur. The Kodongos had the big white dog, Rocky. It looked like a snow fox with its thick white coat. And the fur around his head was large, like a mane, giving him the full dominant male look. It was a beautiful big dog. Rocky and our nameless dog were friends. Both were males—that we could tell easily because of all the females that hung around our compound during mating season.

But our dog and Rocky were mean to Tai Lung. I wonder where they could have picked that from. Whenever we came back from school, Rocky and our dog would meet us on the road and escort us to the house. They would wag their little tails in excitement. We would let them into the house once in a while when our parents weren’t around. They were clean dogs. I am a good pet owner.

When Tai Lung also tried to welcome us in, they would pin her down and chase her out of her little house. We tried to stop it, but the beef between dogs and cats is as old as time. Especially when the owners love both equally. Well, almost equally. I am not really a cat person. Tai Lung was a special exception.

Soon Tai Lung grew too weak to run from the dogs. She would lie there and take the abuse. But we protected her as much as we could. This was a pregnant cat gaddemit! She gave birth to around four other black kittens, and one white one (from the dad’s side, I presume). The white one must have been racially abused and decided to bounce. Or was eaten by Tai Lung, I don’t know. Nature is brutal like that.

We tried raising the kittens the best we could. I might not be a cat person, but who doesn’t like kittens? Sadly, we were in an African home. As soon as they started littering the house my mother put them in a box and gave them away to anyone who wanted black kittens. They were gone just like that—in the snap of a finger. We came home from school one day to an endlessly meowing Tai Lung. She couldn’t forgive us, and decided to poop in all of my mother’s shoes.

But the revenge didn’t end there. She got pregnant again, this time by another stray but stay-at-home brown cat. This brown cat was very supportive, staying by Tai Lung’s side all through the pregnancy. He even stole food for her by himself. We didn’t like him, but he was a big, mean cat who did not take no for an answer. He singlehandedly defied the rules of cat adoption in an African home. He was ours by force by thwon.

The new couple gave birth to mean-looking kittens that not even we wanted. If you know colors, you’d know mixing black and brown doesn’t always bring out the best results, especially in offspring. The children came out confused and grew fat, because the father overfed them stolen food.

Soon, the neighbours’ dog Rocky and our dog couldn’t take the dominance of the brown cat anymore. This was their family and territory—they had literally peed around the compound to mark it. And no cat would take that away. They chased the family away to a nearby river and came back wagging their tails. They had won this particular battle of the legendary cats-vs-dogs war.

When we moved houses, Tai Lung was a distant memory. We don’t know if she died, or got pregnant again and started a serious family under a more loving household without dogs. We don’t know if her ghost still haunts the cats that live with us today.

✍🏽Reagan.