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The Ballad of Tuuta: The Debonair Cat

One birthday morn, a surprise delight
In a shoebox, soft cotton-lined
Arrived a kitten, palm-sized
A Siamese dude with a squinty eye.

From a litter of eight, the finest got.
A furry bean with a purring plot.
Baba and Ma, on feeding patrol
Fed him milk in soaked Cotton balls

They’d pry his jaws with baby teeth
A lactose mission, quite a feat
He sucked like a champ, our tiny star
Destined for fame both near and far.

We named him Tuuta, of noble grace
A princely strut, a whiskered face
The white coat, which soon turned grey
A cat who knew which place to claim

From milk, he moved to entrail stew,
Goat guts and rice, his gourmet debut.
He rubbed on Ma with tender might,
A furry alarm for “Feed me right!”

My twin and I had a custody war
Tuuta’s bed rights? A nightly chore.
One week mine, next week hers,
Furry warmth split between us.

But soon our prince had other plans
Nightly dates with the alley cats
Out through the loo, the exhaust route
He’d vanish to court the feline crew.

What drew the ladies? I would imagine
His suave good looks. His pedigreed stock.
Or perhaps that he had his private loo
A designer sand-filled wooden box

“Privacy, please!” his stink-eye roared,
If you dared peek while on his throne
A posh pooper, took umbrage
if anyone so much as grumbled

Then came a morn, oh horror, alas!
No, Tuuta, there to wake us up.
We searched the home. Floor to fridge top
Found him soaked like a furry rat.

There he flailed in bathtub doom,
Water up to his whiskered plume.
Missed his step while coming back,
The Casanova had lost his knack.

Still, we loved him, that soggy flirt
Rubbed him down and a treat for dessert.
But romance, dear friends, has risks and dues
Tuuta caught more than just the blues.

A virus cruel, a fate so grim,
Rabies struck and silenced him.
And worse! We, too, got jabbed and poked
Fortnight’s worth; our butts turned sore

The company doc declared we must
Go through the pain of injection jabs
But still we smiled, through every sting
Tuuta reigned in our minds supreme.

So, raise a toast to Tuuta and his escapades
To a cat with an attitude longer than a barge pole
With tickly whiskers and royal airs
And bathtub dives and scandalous affairs.

Composed from the prose narrated in my book of memoirs, Fragments of Time (Chapter One, page 19), available on Amazon.com.

Copyright © 2025 Snigdha Agrawal

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Author Biography

SNIGDHA AGRAWAL is a passionate septuagenarian writer with five published books, including Fragments of Time, her deeply personal memoir.  A lifelong lover of storytelling, she seamlessly blends fact and fiction, guided by a keen eye for detail and emotion.  Her works span diverse genres, reflecting her rich experiences and insightful observations.

Her poetry, short stories, essays, and travelogues are regularly featured in online journals published worldwide.  She lives in Bangalore (India) and is happiest writing and travelling, her lifelong passions.