Our Cat Eats Her Kittens

Yemeni mp

Ahmed Saif Hashed

We had a small black cat with a hint of white that made her look beautiful and captivating. Her fur was shiny and soft like silk. Her legs appeared as if they were marked with white, and the white on her forehead gave her the majesty of a horse and the pride of a knight.

The white in her neck added to her grace and dignity. Her eyes were round, yellow, and vibrant, like two moons on the night of fullness.

The blackness of her fur granted her radiance and charm. More than that, she had an overwhelming tenderness and affection.

She would playfully nuzzle me, joke with me, and scratch my hand. If I left her, she would gently try to bring me back to her with pleading eyes and a hope that could soften stone.

When I returned home, she would greet me with warmth and a welcoming enthusiasm overflowing with longing.

I would see her circling around my feet, rubbing against my ankles. Her gentle meows, filled with love and pleading, stirred a torrent of affection in me, urging me to respond with intimacy, which she wanted to confirm by repetition.

I loved her, and she loved me, creating a bridge of affection between us. She grew up, and her strength flourished, serving the family’s purpose of keeping the mice that crept into our home at bay.

* * *

One day, shortly after giving birth, I witnessed something I found hard to believe.

She did something unimaginable—our cat was eating her own kittens! At first, I denied what I saw.

How could a cat eat her own young when she should instinctively protect them from any threat or harm?

I saw her face twisted in horror, her mouth smeared with blood. I saw her kittens scattered around her, some still caught in her claws.

I witnessed, up close, the frightening scene of the crime. Her eyes glinted with malice and savagery.

I saw all the traces of the crime that condemned her, marking her with brutality, terror, and shame.
I imagined the cries of her kittens as they called out for help, their voices choked until they ceased, their breaths cut short by violence.

I envisioned her silencing their weak cries with overwhelming ferocity and extreme cruelty. She ambushed them time and again, feeling no compassion or even a hint of maternal instinct.
Motherhood is a powerful instinct, overflowing with emotion, and when stirred, it manifests with the force of a storm—filled with sacrifice and devotion. I have often witnessed mothers defending their young against any threat or danger.

I have seen a doe crossing the path of an alligator to save her fawn, risking her life. I have seen a hen fighting a cobra to protect her chicks, and another sacrificing her life for her eggs. Motherhood is a strong instinct in facing the dangers that threaten her young.

Other scenes confirm the depth of this maternal instinct, where a mother fiercely protects her children with unwavering determination and bravery.

So what happened for our cat to eat her own kittens? She was not starving; she did not know hunger.

Could it be a limit to the love that a mother feels for her young, that it turns into something destructive? After much contemplation, I could not find a reasonable explanation for what happened.

* * *

After a while, I was convinced that our cat ate her own kittens while leaving the snakes and mice that we wanted her to keep away from entering our home. It was a horrifying truth that stained the history of cats. She was caught in the act of eating her own young. What a dreadful calamity! Instead of defending them and protecting them, we found her devouring them.

Her tenderness dried up, her love faded, and the situation turned upside down. How could a cat eat her own young and play with mice, treating them with all fondness and friendship?

What I witnessed left a deep sorrow and a painful question in my heart. I asked my mother: Why does our poor cat eat her kittens? What have the little ones done to deserve such a fate?

My mother would reply: It is God’s wisdom in His creation.
As I grew older, I remembered reading someone who sought to justify this wisdom by saying: Cats were created to eat mice, and mice were created to be eaten by cats.

I respond here: What kind of wisdom is this? What justification, and what logic can save this claim? Furthermore, our cat does not eat the mice; she eats her own kittens, while at the same time she loves the mice and plays with them gently and joyfully.

Our revolutions also resemble our cat! They resemble the flames that consume themselves. How many revolutions have devoured their own children until they turned to ashes, and we still wait for a phoenix to rise from the heaps of ash. Will it come?

Surely it will come, and the people will triumph over their oppressors after despair and tyranny.
Did not our great poet and inspiration, Abdullah Al-Baradouni, say:
“Do not think the earth is barren of giving,
From every stone a mountain will rise for redemption.”

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