BY JEFF YONG
SOME months back, I watched the movie, A Dog’s Way Home, and the story caught my attention.
Based on a best-selling novel by W. Bruce Cameron, the story had me hooked to the screen, as it was about a lost dog that went on a gruelling two-year journey of over 650km from New Mexico to the wilds of Colorado and suburbs of Denver in search of its human owner.
The flick took me on an emotional roller-coaster ride, as it touched on the power of unconditional love and compassion. What made it even more captivating was that the dog, Shelby, which played Bella, could ‘speak’ – thanks to the voice of actress Bryce Dallas Howard.
A Dog’s Way Home reinforced my belief that some pets can really find their way back no matter how far they’ve been lost or misplaced.
Why? Because it brought to mind a strange incident that happened some years back.
Almost 40 years ago, I was staying at the servants’ quarters with my parents at a house in Langgak Golf (the house has since been demolished). Those were interesting times, as I had just gotten married to Amy.
One day, my parents’ bosses got a female Persian cat named Chichi.
But before she could be spayed, the neighbourhood Romeo, a Manx cat (the striped species), had romanced this greyish beauty with fluffy hair.
That ‘affair’ resulted in four kittens – Tiger, who looked exactly like its dad and my all-time favourite; Grey, which took after its mum’s hair and colour; White, an exact replica of its dad except that it had white fur; and Black, who was all black and reminded me of a panther.
Black was the least domesticated of the lot. It moved about stealthily, just like (what else?) a panther, and didn’t like to be patted.
When it was time to eat, it’d come back from its wanderings. After it had its fill, it’d disappear, and rarely stayed home. Even if it had stayed, the cat would stay far away from humans, in the most unlikely corners of the house.
One day I was told that Black had been ‘deported’, probably due to its indiscriminate habit of ‘marking’ its turf around the house. I enquired where the cat had been taken to. I was told: “Far enough”.
I wasn’t satisfied and continued to inquire as Black had been part of the family feline brood although it was the most detached.
Eventually, I learnt that Black had been dropped off at Sungai Buloh, near the army camp and a large fireworks factory that blew up some years back. That was nearly 40km from where we were staying.
Some half a year later, when I had already put Black far from my mind, I found myself driving along in Sungai Buloh for some strange reason.
I was actually on my way to Subang and Shah Alam, and somehow decided to take that road.
Back then, the road was a deserted stretch, but today it’s a bustling thoroughfare and the location of the Sungai Buloh MRT station.
When I turned my car at one corner, I caught sight of a cat sitting on the kerb that reminded me of Black! As I stared at the cat, it stared back with its darting eyes.
That was unmistakably Black, I told myself, because it had Black’s attitude, hence that defiant stare! I also couldn’t forget its lithe physique. In a flash, the cat was gone. Too quick even for me to coax it into my car.
When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my strange encounter but she seemed unconvinced, and dismissed it as one of one of my nutty moments.
Two months later, a scraggy and emaciated Black was back in the compound of the place we were staying. He had made it back home!
Need I say more?
Jeff Yong, after making his mark in the twisty maze of mainstream journalism, has finally decided to enjoy what he does best – observing the unusual and recounting the gleeful. He can be contacted at lifestyle.borak@gmail.com.
