Reunion with Lang-lang and my other mom

On November 3, 2012, I was in a completely different room — a smaller and hotter one. Mom says we are to stay at her mom’s house temporarily while she breaks her back, saving up for our own palace soon. Although our new room isn’t as spacious as before, it’s cozy and warm, and with mom around, it still feels like home.

Enjoying the view outside from our new room.

Our new environment is very different, too. Gone are the sounds of urban vehicles; all I could hear are the sounds of insects and other animals — there are roosters, dogs, crickets, goats, pigs, and of course, cats like me! A hundred meters north from our new home lives my sibling Lang-lang, and oh! there’s another cat in our house: an orange, striped, very slow-moving, sneaky, dirty fellow named Punit.

Meeting Lang-lang was like looking at a younger version of myself in the mirror; boy, she’s very thin and small! She has my color – black and white – and my voice. I love hanging out with her, especially when she is coming into heat, because I get to meet the other cats in the neighborhood. Her masters’ house is very big! We’d spend hours chasing and goofing around until mom comes to pick me up.


A couple weeks after our moving in, I’ve met a number of fellow cats, but only a few distinct ones — Tamingco, Siren, Siren’s brother, Punit, Lang-lang, and of course, my real mom, Lorna. By the way, I am more comfortable calling Lorna by her name, and she’s cool with it. She lived with my mom’s grandaunt, in a cute little concrete house, together with Siren and her (er, I mean our) brother. She introduced me to them with pride in her eyes, and I was so glad to have finally met them. Siren didn’t look too pleased though, and our nameless brother looked annoyed. Yet none of these bothered me; my heart was just too overwhelmed with warmth and belongingness.

Nomadic Days

I grew up living in the heart of the city -- mom's place downtown was close to the city cathedral, city hall, Quezon Park, and the boulevard. I had many playmates there, big and small. It was also there where I got acquainted with all sizes of vehicles! Wow, some would park at the gate all night, and I'd hide under the engine, watching passersby. Then there would crisscross different sizes of mice! I would outrun some of them -- those smaller than I -- and surprise mom with my catches. She'd give me a pat on the shoulder but would complain about my bringing in mice and roaches in our room.

Anyway, after 8 months, mom and I moved to Batinguel. I hated moving out; I even clawed at mom's skin here and there. Yet, at the end of the day, mom knows best, so we left downtown eventually.

The bachelor pad in Batinguel wasn't as spacious, but it certainly was cleaner. If it weren't for the neighbor's yapping puppy, it would've been a perfect place for us. My favorite part was the living area, where there was TV and a lot of windows. Whenever mom would go out, I'd sit by the window, watching and waiting for her return. At night, the neighborhood is just very peaceful -- perfect for hunting preys. Mom wouldn't let me out though 'coz according to her, my voice is too loud -- I tend to make funny noises whenever I'm thrilled about things -- and our new neighbors would hate us for it. But because I am stubborn and persistent, I wouldn't stop nagging mom until she'd agree. Sadly, I never really had a catch that great while there -- just a couple mollies, an all the more reason I make weirder and weirder noises. *grins*


After two months, mom couldn't stand the yapping puppy anymore. One time she complained to its owner, and the owner, an old, irate woman, fired back. Mom decided that was it -- I pitied her 'coz I saw how she was filled to the brim already. She called Nanay, and at night, Nanay and her team came to the rescue. They came in a huge truck, helped mom pack her things up, and drove off south -- to my mom's hometown. Learning from our past moving experience, mom put me in a green bag, where I wouldn't see which way we're headed. When they opened the bag, I was already in our next "home" -- a strange but somewhat familiar place. I was back in Zamboanguita (check out my previous post about this beautiful town).

The origin of my name

My first impression of mom's apartment was that it was huge, like really big indoor space. I had a very huge place to explore and run around. I sniffed here and there, trying to determine if some other cats live here as well and familiarizing the place, err, the smell. No interesting smell there -- just dusts.

Mom's room was huge too, and the bed! It's queen-sized! It would take me about a hundred steps to make a back-and-forth! Anyway, she put me on her lap and started talking, "I will name you after that box that kept you from jumping off the bus. Smarties. Hmm... But what if you will turn out to be the not-smart type?"

In my mind, I was like "How dare you insult my race like that? Cats are naturally born smart; haven't you ever heard of that line before?" Yet, since I was too tired to argue and the piercing sound of that bus was still occupying a huge space in my head, I just settled there on her lap, peacefully surrendering myself to the sleep fairy.

"Alright, we'll make it less obvious and well, safer. From now on, you will be called 'Marty'." Mom's voice was barely audible, and I could feel the warmth of the sleep fairy approaching, ready to envelop me.

My name is Marty

I was born sometime in November 2010 (my 'mom' can't remember the exact date) in the beautiful town called Zamboanguita. It's a happy, laid-back, peaceful town, full of simple-living human beings... but anyway, this is not about them. So, I have 2 siblings, a boy and a girl. Unfortunately, I was too young when mom took me from my surrogate mother that I barely know my siblings' names; I think one of them is named Lang-lang. I was about 1 month old then.

Mom said her grandma, Lola Oding, who is my surrogate mother's mistress, gave me to her as a Christmas present. By the way, I think mom is a semi-antisocial kind of person; that's probably why her granny thought a cute cat like me would make good company. I first met mom in December 2010. I think she thought I was cute as she couldn't stop staring at me, stroking my fur and tracing the black-and-white stripes in my tummy. Although I was too young then, I remember enjoying the pleasurable strokes. I think we made a great first impression with each other at that very moment.

On January 3, mom put me in a Smarties chocolate box, readying to take me to her apartment in the city. She poked two tiny holes in one of the box's sides, so I could see what's going on outside; thus, I saw that we were seated right behind the driver. Mom was crazy! What was she thinking? Every time the driver honked his horn, I could feel my ears explode and bleed! Oh, that horrible, loud, earsplitting noise was just too much for my sensitive ears. All in all, the bus ride was a giant stress, and I thought I'd die from heart attack before we could make it to the city — the city which I never thought I'd survive living in.

Forty-five minutes later, we finally got off that horrible, loud-sounding thing. Mom opened her rusty red gate, and that was the first time I heard its clanking.