Lying there, I felt my mother's hands comforting me. She was trying to say something, But I would not listen. She sat there till I got up and washed my face. She wanted to say something; I knew it from her face. She waited patiently till she felt I was ready to listen.
We talked for about an hour. My mother told me that they had seen me with the cat and wanted to be sure that it is safe. So, my father, who was a veterinary surgeon had decided that he would take the cat for a thorough examination. However, the cat did not survive. That morning, when my father came into my room to take the cat, he found it lying dead in the basket. All he had done was to order the maid to get rid of it, so that I would not have to see it. He had made up his mind to buy a pet cat for me by evening, seeing which, he had expected, I would forget all about the dead cat.
But, while the maid was about her work of getting rid of the dead cat, I had seen it. I felt guilty hearing all this. I had misjudged my parents.
In the evening, my father came home with a cat, a Persian cat - the one I had always wanted. He had known it all the while. I thanked him and my mother. And, I took my Cotton-Ball (that's what I named my cat later) upstairs, to my room.
Every time I am reminded of the incident, I realize how much my parents love me and how it will never change.
We talked for about an hour. My mother told me that they had seen me with the cat and wanted to be sure that it is safe. So, my father, who was a veterinary surgeon had decided that he would take the cat for a thorough examination. However, the cat did not survive. That morning, when my father came into my room to take the cat, he found it lying dead in the basket. All he had done was to order the maid to get rid of it, so that I would not have to see it. He had made up his mind to buy a pet cat for me by evening, seeing which, he had expected, I would forget all about the dead cat.
But, while the maid was about her work of getting rid of the dead cat, I had seen it. I felt guilty hearing all this. I had misjudged my parents.
In the evening, my father came home with a cat, a Persian cat - the one I had always wanted. He had known it all the while. I thanked him and my mother. And, I took my Cotton-Ball (that's what I named my cat later) upstairs, to my room.
Every time I am reminded of the incident, I realize how much my parents love me and how it will never change.
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