The irony of fate :)

I'm sitting here thinking I'm the happiest cat in the world! You know why? Well, listen up...

I was born sometime in November. The only thing I remember from childhood is the smell of my mother's fur mixed with the dampness of the basement. I was her smallest, weakest, and sickest child. My five brothers suckled so greedily and pushed me away from my mother so much that I often went without food all day. Eventually, I grew so weak that I couldn't even fight for a little milk anymore. To make matters worse, I came down with some nasty illness that glued my eyes shut and blocked my nose. For hours, I sat in complete darkness, breathing through my mouth, while a pack of small, malicious monsters mercilessly bit me all over. I was hungry, terribly hungry, but I didn't have the strength to fight for food. Eventually, my siblings left our basement, and my mother disappeared forever. I was left completely alone, meowing softly in despair, but no one heard me. Finally, I crawled out into the hallway and crouched there, waiting for death to free me from my suffering. I had a fever, and the pus around my eyes had hardened into a crust. I hadn't eaten for days, and I don't think I would have survived until the next morning if not for a miracle... Warm, soft hands gently lifted me and hugged me. I tried to mew, but only a rustle emerged from my throat.

I didn't know where they were taking me, but soon I smelled a strange odor. Someone was washing my face and eyes, just like my mother had, with something warm and wet. I later learned it was chamomile, which, by the way, remains with me to this day. It took quite a while, but finally the shell became so wet that it peeled off, and I tried to see. But unfortunately, my eyes were covered in a thick layer of endosperm. I couldn't see, couldn't feel, and was completely helpless. They put an instrument in my mouth and tried to force some milk, but I couldn't swallow anything, and it all poured down my neck. How tiny I was then! I could fit in the palm of my hand, and I was already about 4-5 weeks old. I slept through the night in warm, soft sheets, and my new mother was with me the whole time, dripping the warm milk into my mouth, massaging my belly as she did so. Finally, I fell asleep from the bliss that enveloped me. I even managed to purr for a moment. The very next day we were at the vet's. Oh, it wasn't pleasant, and to this day I prefer to avoid that place. I was pricked severely in several places, some stinging liquid was poured into my eyes, and powder was poured down my back! Brr... awful! Luckily, my owner was with me the whole time, scratching me behind the ears. I thought it was a one-time ordeal, but it turned out I had to endure it for another week! But surprisingly! After a few days, I could breathe through my nose, and the fog in my eyes began to clear. I could already see the outlines of objects around me, and people were petting me and saying kind words: what a beautiful kitty! What a little thing! Is he real? Isn't he a stuffed animal? And I was warming up peacefully against my owner's neck, or rather, in her turtleneck sweater, because my owner took me everywhere, even to work. Thanks to this, I could be fed every 2-3 hours, and above all, I felt warm and safe. They named me Filip. That's probably because I look like a real prince—black with a white tie, socks, and gloves. I'm simply handsome! But back to my story. After a while, when I could stand on my own two feet and eat on my own, I started exploring my new home. During my wanderings, I discovered an exceptionally quiet spot for relieving myself of... you know what. It was in the very corner of the room, nestled between the furniture. Perfect, peaceful, and secluded—no one would disturb me, I thought. Without a second thought, I marked it so I could easily find it later. I did have my own litter box, but it was in the middle of the bathroom, and I needed a little privacy.

So I started visiting my new toilet, and I have no idea why such hell broke loose in the house! I got hit on the back with a cloth, heard some harsh words directed at me, and on top of that, my owner used a particularly foul-smelling product, which treated my secluded spot so completely that it lost all its charm. But I didn't give up. The next morning, I decided to eliminate the disgusting smell emanating from my toilet and used it again. Oh, horror! This probably wasn't the best idea, because the situation became much more dangerous. Every time I approached the spot, a jet of icy water from that small, colorful device doused me! Brr... I honestly don't know why they were so keen on that piece of floor. My caregivers even went so far as to move the couch to its place! They completely cut off my ability to continue my practice. Oh well, I thought, I'll find another toilet. As my vision improved, I soon discovered a new, perfect spot. Pots with a large flower. Great! Now they wouldn't be able to see me because I'd buried everything in the ground. I did as I'd decided. But unfortunately, my joy was short-lived. The flower didn't survive the extra dose of fertilizer and had to be thrown away. Eventually, I resigned myself to the litter box and the indiscreet way of doing its business. For a while, I was a well-behaved kitten again. However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't accept that people slept so long. I soon discovered a very effective way to wake them up. My owner had a collection of thick albums that sat quietly on a shelf just above the couch. With a little effort, I managed to move them, just enough for them to fall on his head with a bang. Admittedly, I had to run away rather quickly afterward, as various objects flew after me, but the effect was guaranteed. Moments later, the owner would get up for work, and I would receive my favorite portion of food. Later, after he left, I wouldn't leave my teacher's side. I was terribly angry when she left me alone to go to her work. In my despair, I would scratch my claws at anything I could get my claws into. My favorite game was pulling her clothes out of the open closet and romping wildly around the room. My teacher would yell at me terribly afterwards, but she always forgave me in the end.

Besides, I'm not entirely sure if she really goes to work as she says. I think she goes hunting, because each time she brings back some prey, which she always shares with me. That is, not just with me anymore. One day—and this was back when I was still living in the blissful thought of being the only cat in the world—Maćko came to our house. At first, I was terrified and hissed at him as loudly as I could. He was enormous, as tall as a mountain, and his gaze made my blood run cold. I preferred to steer clear of him, hoping he'd leave quickly. But that wasn't the case. Maciek took a liking to our home and took over. He would force himself onto my owner's lap with impunity, eat treats from my bowl, and sleep in my armchair! I couldn't stand it any longer, so I summoned my courage and approached him late at night. "Hmm... I'm so sorry," I began hesitantly, "but I'm the most important, beloved, and ONLY cat who has the right to be here, so if you could find another home, I'd be grateful." Maciek just looked at me with his huge green eyes, sighed, and replied, "Oh, little one, what do you know about life?" Then he curled up and fell into a deep sleep. Well, I probably didn't know much, but I noticed that the new tenant had a damaged left ear and many scars on his face. Much later, he told me about his sad life and how much he'd been through before coming under our roof. But that's his story, and I don't want to be indiscreet. In any case, we've been on good terms ever since, and sometimes I even manage to persuade him to wrestle a little or chase some invisible prey. Last year, we both got sick, and our owner gave us injections herself. It was hard, but we've grown so close that we sleep in the same bed together and actually love each other very much. Maciek, of course, has never admitted it, but I can feel it when he licks my face. We also have little arguments.

Whenever someone sits down at the computer, we compete to see who gets to lie on his lap. He admits I can't lose, and when Maciek takes a chosen position, I nip his tail until he runs away, growling with anger. It's a small vice of mine; I'm incredibly jealous! I follow my mistress everywhere in the house, and when she doesn't notice me, I climb up her legs until she takes me in her arms. Then I purr with satisfaction and wish that moment would last forever. I hate being separated from my mistress so much that I even follow her into the shower. But what wouldn't you do for love, right?

So, as you can see, I lead a very happy cat life. And so, sometimes, when I'm basking in the sun with a belly full of delicious food and Maciek purring next to me, I think to myself how you never know in life. I, the weakest and smallest of the bunch, now live like a king. I sleep in warm sheets, eat food specially prepared for cats, am petted and cuddled daily, and my owner calls me "her sunshine," while my strong siblings may be starving and freezing in basements, scavenging for scraps of food. My owner calls it "the irony of fate," but I know better. Even though I'm allergic (they're constantly smearing me with ointments, ugh...) and a bit visually impaired (though I manage to catch the occasional fly), I'm a truly happy cat and I'd like to say to all my fellow cats: don't give up! Maybe a miracle like mine will happen to you too...