Was awakened from deep slumber by Bubloo-the-black-cat sticking his cold, wet nose against mine and murmuring cat talk. I grumbled and flipped onto the other side. It never fails to amaze me how he is up at the crack of dawn, then insists that I leave my warm cocoon, so he can satisfy his cravings. If I grumble and go back to sleep, the persistent cat that he is, he will stick his wet nose against my cheek, give it a lick and start rumbling. This morning was no exception, even with my head sandwiched between two pillows, Bubloo got his hairy face in and gave my cheek a nudge. I sighed, felt along the table for my cell, slipped it open and peered at the time. 5.31 a.m. FAJR.
Groggily made my way out to his food dish, while I was pouring some of his beloved munchies, I heard the unmistakable sound of water hitting the floor. Upon opening the back-door, I encounter enormously, beautiful drops of water hitting earth in all their wet glory. Splat! Splat! Splat! I was spellbound. It was a downpour!!!! Lots of winter rain. Wholly unexpected, but oh so appreciated. A dense cloud cover over-head, the sky a shimmery red, and the smell of wet earth, a chill in the air. I was in heaven. Rain Heaven. Bubloo seemed to catch on to my excitement and danced around my feet doing his sniffing thing. It was only then I realized that the sheets were still on the line, made a mad dash out to get them. Found Bubloo hanging half way up the screen door apparently trying to get out. This was his first rain. For a cat, he sure acts like a dog most times.
Since my brother was the only one up, leaving for fajr, I couldn’t share my exhilaration with the rest of the family. So, Bubloo and I were the ones left to enjoy the scene from the large front window. Bubloo draped himself on the sill, while I leaned against it. Watched the neighbours leaving for prayers, the old gardener from down the road pedaling furiously to get to the mosque, his heavy turban slightly skewed. Then silence, except the continuous music of raindrops. I don’t know for how long I stood there, watching, wanting to desperately go and dance a jig in the garden in my bare feet. Waited to hear the rumbling of thunder and the flash of lightning. This was blessed rain – there were no censorious glares from above. Bubloo was jumping from one window to another in feline rapture. When the drizzle turned into fine mist and the road reflected the lights from the houses I finally made my way back to bed. What a way to start the day. With a huge grin, I snuggled in praying that it would continue to fall all day. After some time a subdued Bubloo joined me, stretched out against my legs, plopped his head against my ankle and went off to sleep. But not before he touched his very, wet nose against my foot.
Im still smiling. I love winter rain. And Bubloo’s cold wet nose. :D
“Its raining. Its pouring
The old man is roaring
He went to bed
And bumped his head
And couldn’t get up in the morning!”
