Animal Activities #50

A gray cat called Langit. He is not a pedigreed cat, nor he had collar or a soft pillow. His coat was drab, his tail had been slightly broken at the tip, and his eyes — one bright yellow, the other muted green — were telling a tale he’d never whispered.

Skid had emerged in that very alley one rainy night. He zips under a wooden bench at a coffee shop, quaking, as though the rain is conjuring up memories of something he wants to forget. The shopkeeper, an elderly man named Pak Rahman, handed him some leftover salted fish. From that day on, Langit was never really gone. He was the shop’s de facto doorman, stationed on the stoop, observing the comings and goings with an eerie equanimity.

Langit made his daily rounds every morning in the alley, jumping from one wall to another, welcoming the sun with a slight purr. Young children adored him because Langit never did any scratching or biting. He just stared, then came forward slowly as if to determine an intent before giving trust. For Langit, trust was a precious commodity.

But behind his cool demeanor lay Langit’s fierce loyalty. One day, Mr. Rahman got sick and the coffee shop was closed for several days. The usually busy alley is now silent. A lot of people thought Langit would go somewhere else, but he stayed. He sits at the locked shop, waiting, waiting, waiting, even when food is running out.

On the fourth day it rained again. Langit was drenched, but he did not stir. When the shop door at last opened and Mr. Rahman stepped out slowly, Langit meowed softly, as if saying “I’m here.”. Mr. Rahman's smile was radiant and his eyes filled with tears. From that day, he started addressing Langit as “Friend.”

Time passed and now Langit was familiar to all the inhabitants of the alley. He wasn't just any old stray cat — he stood for loyalty, patience and straightforward warmth. In a hurry-up world that seemed to be constantly getting louder, Langit gave him just one takeaway: Sometimes, being a loyal, mute companion is worth more than a thousand words.

And every night, as the sun set beyond the alleyway, Langit remained perched on the doorstep of the shop, vigilant, expectant, and loyal—like the twilight sky that never turns away the advent of night.

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