Cogs can think.

As I pulled out of my parents’ driveway earlier this afternoon, I noticed one of our cats sitting by the side of the street. Jari sat there, in his usual pose, his gaze resembling that of a supermarket assistant before his first coffee break. He’s rather old, 14 years now, and the years are starting to show. About two years ago he started to get thinner rapidly, his majestic black fur losing its glossy shine due to him being ill. While Jari reclaimed some of his physical glory from before the mysterious illness the vet couldn’t put his fingers on, he’s still noticeably different.

I clearly remember the day we went to pick Jari up. I was 9 years old, and wanted a kitten desperately. My parents already had cats, but they passed away before I was born. A girl in my class told me her cat had kittens, so I probably started my usual nagging cycle, and somewhere right around where I threatened to tie myself to the front of our car, my parents gave in.

A few weeks later, we were driving back home with a small black furball stuck in a cardboard box. Right there and then, Jari demonstrated his extraordinary strength and determination by completely ripping apart the thick box and going all mental inside our car. He jumped up against the car windows, jumped from back to front, and in general, made driving quite a challenge for my mother.

Back home, like all kittens, he showed a fondness for tiny, dark spaces, crawling in every little dark corner he could find. Within days, this behaviour passed, and he started to grow more confident by the day, slowly turning into the emperor he would become. I remember how my brothers and I used to take Jari into our bedrooms, and play with him under the covers of our beds.

As I drove passed Jari this afternoon, and looked him in his eyes, I realised why that stupid old cat means so much to me. He’s not as sweet as Roza, and not as loving and charming as Jobje - in fact, he’s grumpy, sometimes even aggressive, and he can be quite annoying too. Still, this cat means so much to me because he is the only tangible thing in this universe that binds everyone in our family together. No matter what has happened over the past 15 to 20 years between my parents and I on one side, and my brothers on their respective sides, we all love Jari.

Those memories, of playing with Jari under the covers of our beds, might very well be the last unambiguously happy memories I have concerning my brothers. And because of that, no matter how much I love my Twiek and Alice, it will always be Jari that has that special place in my heart.