We finally adopted a cat, though using the word “adopted” does not precisely describe the impulsion with which my sister Lisa acted. She saw a kitty curled up in a small cage on her way to the vegetable market, and went over to ask the price. She took it home directly with a plastic bag.

    I have never imagined that I would adopt a cat in a city apartment of 85 square meters. We had a cat once when we were young, and lived in the countryside. The cat could run restlessly in the wild for a day with her white furred body dotting the green land. Then our family moved into an apartment when my sister and I went to high school in the city. I often saw the cat lying on the windowsill, her eyes staring at the sky before she died a year later. Cats must love freedom.

    It is impossible to give up the kitty now as I could not simply ask my sister to return it to where she found it, so I accept the reality. It is female and we named her “slowly.”

    Slowly is a cat of principle. For one thing, she believes in absolute equality between her and us. Whenever we eat food, drink liquid, watch TV, type messages, write notes or clean the floor, she asks to play a fair part, except when we take a shower, which she thinks she has the equal right to say “NO.”

    For another, her obsession with cleanliness is considered a virtue, by which she determines to fight against any “disorder,” for example, she demands her food plate and litter box be cleaned every three days, or she would either treat our bed as a litter box or paw her food out all over the floor as a warning.

    Slowly never bothers herself with boundaries. As she has a distaste for the private space we human beings desire, leaving teeth marks on my diary and bumping into the lavatory when we are using it have become her favorite free time activities. Moreover, she has a dictionary of words referencing the human foods to which she is “allergic,”or she would like to say “no, thanks.” It would be no surprise if she loved corn, wax gourd and red dates. She would at least make teeth practice if she doesn’t eat it anyway.

    Her emotion is in an ever-changing state. She rubs my leg to show intimacy, and then bites my wrist while I am still behind her pace, picking her up. I am hardly able to draw back my wounded arm. In the next minute, she hides inside her litter box for refuge. Though I am the wounded one, I have to pretend to be nice to persuade her out of the smelly box.

    All in all, Slowly is a cat with character.