My cat at home is a true homebody. He was brought to my home when he was the size of a palm. Every day, all he does is eat and sleep, sleep and eat. He stays up late every day and occasionally gives me a scratch. Except for going to the hospital for vaccinations, he hasn't left the house for four whole years. Even that one time, I carried him to the hospital. He was trembling the whole way. Such timidity is truly a disgrace to the tabby cat family.
But even so, I still love him very much. However, today, I plan to take him outside.
The cat leash I bought online arrived yesterday. In order to prevent him from running away outside, I have been waiting for the right moment to put this somewhat silly-looking thing on him. Right now, he is curled up on my leg, with his paws holding his ears, looking just like a ball of fur.
Oh, I forgot to introduce my cat's name. He is called Xiaomeng, a name I gave him. I was fourteen years old that year, and kids at that age always come up with some inexplicable titles. I was no exception.
Xiaomeng stretched lazily on my leg, with his paws hanging in the air. It's a good opportunity, so I put the leash on him, fastened it smoothly, and he didn't even notice that there was something new on him. It seems that he is not only timid but also adorably foolish.
I held him in my arms, in a baby-carrying position, trying to make him feel comfortable. Xiaomeng, with sleepy eyes, had a look of not knowing what was happening. I went outside, and only then did he wake up, busy jumping off my shoulder, trying to go back inside.
Unfortunately, it was too late. I had my sister close the door when I came out. Now Xiaomeng is futilely scratching the door, making a scratching sound, but the door remains unmoved. I'm worried that he will hurt his paws, so I pick him up and walk towards the garden.
I can feel Xiaomeng trembling in my arms, trembling incessantly, his eyes looking around in fear, and then burying himself deep in my arms.
I gently put him down on the ground, but he just stays there, unable to get up. I thought it was because I was nearby, so I deliberately ran away, thinking that Xiaomeng would come after me. But when I turned around, I found him hiding under the electric bicycle, not even looking at me.
I tried to pull his leash, but I couldn't budge him. Xiaomeng's paws were firmly gripping the ground, refusing to come out from under the electric bicycle. It's as if the shadow under the bicycle is his talisman. I had no choice but to pick him up and walk to a place without any cars, and then put him down again. This time, there should be nowhere for him to hide.
But he still stays on the ground, staring at the floor, unwilling to lift his head. As soon as I loosen the leash a little, he has already half of his body inside the bushes. Is it the nature of cats or the nature of Xiaomeng? I can't quite tell.
He starts to meow, a sound that is completely different from his usual voice. It's a pitiful and sorrowful meow, as if he is the most unfortunate cat in the world. I feel a pang of sympathy and also realize my own foolishness.
I pick him up, and as soon as I open the door, he jumps back in. With a gait I have never seen before, he runs into the room and lies down on the floor, feeling at ease.
I also enter the room, approach him, and touch him, but he is still trembling.