Name: Hop T.A.

Huynh
Instructor: Laura Sinai
English 101
Date: 7/6/16
Narrative Essay Assignment – First Draft
The Black-little Cat and the Journey of the Mature Boy.

I had learned what a true friendship between animals and humans is when I went to

high school. It was possible to get along with an animal as a best friend, a guider, and a teacher,

I believed. The story begun in a natural situation of my life that I could not believe it would

happen to me. That was a nice-blue summer morning, in the church, after the Father blessed

everyone and ended the ceremony, then, "Amen," people finished the ceremony with their

words meaning they trusted in Christ and wished best wishes would come to everyone. For a

minute, there was a silent air in the church, near to my left side, was my father. He was closing

his eyes, praying for best things came to my family. On my right side, was my younger sister.

She whispered things I could hear clearly: "I wish my family would be healthy and happy.

Amen." After praying, we moved to the outside of the church via the right door. "We finally

finish a perfect Sunday ceremony and I have a surprise for you two. Guess it would be?" said my

father with his warm bass voice as he could become a herald wanting to share a good news or a

bad news instead. “We’re going to have a family vacation?” said my sister with her soft voice.

"No, you're wrong." answered my father. "We've to take a summer class?" said I wearily. "No,

why do you think that, Hop? We’ll have a pet in our house," said he excitedly as he would be on

cloud nine. I looked at my sister, she was full of the joys of spring with her eyes blinking as she

wanted a cat like her wish before, same as mine too. My sister and I followed him to the pet

store by motorbike, then looking at every cat in the store and thinking about choices. In the

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corner between two walls, there was a little-black cat lying in the cage and showing his back

outside the view, and he was sleeping softly with his breath as he was in a beautiful dream. I

chose him to be my pet instead of choosing a naughty-yellow cat next to him on the left. The

first time I hugged a little cat in my hands as he would be a little world fitting in my hands. I had

to learn new thing I had not done it before: I started learning how to take care of him, how to

play with him, how to feed him, and finally, trying to talk with him as my mother wanted me to

do. That was a weird thing I had to do with a cat, I thought. “Hi, my name is Hop. What’s your

name?” I asked, trying to be nice with him. He just looked at me and then turned away, and …

gone. Wow, you are so rude, Mr. Cat, I thought. But wait a second, he does not have a name, I

continued my thinking. “Ok, now your name is Meo Meo,” I held him up to the air, trying to

think about a nicer name but I could not, it was difficult to choose another name. That was the

first time he taught me how to respect with other people. After a few weeks, he usually wanted

to play with me even when I was very busy to do my homework or doing something else; but

with his cute-naughty hands, I could not ignore him with his play. He was trying to teach me

balancing between studying and playing, somehow. Coming to the time when I was broken with

my first love and plus with the decline of my learning, I totally had depression, therefore, I

found the only solution for that: isolated with all relationships. Then, I had to hear a bad news

about my sister’s cat: she died after living together with my family about one year, and after

that thing happened, Meo Meo was very sad and just laid down on his bed without eating for

one and half day. After that, he sat in front of the doorstep, waiting for something at every

morning, maybe waiting for Meo Em - the girl that went to heaven a few days ago. Somehow, I

thought that he had a strong spirit and went over his sadness, or maybe, he accepted her death

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and kept moving on. Sometime I had stress and cried for no reason, he usually came to my

room, sat near where I was lying with his four legs and hands, and ...play. I could not

understand what he was doing for in the cat's world, maybe he just wanted to play everywhere,

or maybe, for somehow, he was trying to teach me how to go through sad feelings by ignoring

them and continuing living joyfully.

After graduating from high school, I moved to the university which was far from

my home three and half an hour by bus. Before I went, I had promised him I would visit him one

time every week, but the work and study kept me from keeping that promise. The first time I

went back to visit him was two months later, I was surprising with his change: he looked older

with some short-white hairs and skinny with his sad eyes as he would be worse if I did not come

back to visit him. "He's eaten less than usual since you moved to the University for studying. He

usually sat in front of the doorstep to wait for your presence," explained my mom about his

image as she wanted to reprove me about not usually go back to visit him, her and my father.

My throat choked after hearing these words. Then I gave him a tightly hug with teardrops in my

face and did not forget to create a promise with him again. After that, I kept the promise with

him, visited him every week. One week, two weeks, and three weeks after, I heard he was dying

because of a serious disease of cat in a cold-dry night when I had just finished the dinner. I took

a hurry trip to come back home. That night was the most memorable moment in my life I would

never forget. He was lying on his warm bed, eyes closed with a little hard of breathing on his

face, and I was trying to move closer to him silently as I was a thief trying to steal something

from him. Holding his cold hands, I closed my eyes, trying to hold my tears back in my soul,

prayed for Christ that he would have more strength from now on to go through his disease and

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be stable. He started having a seizure in a moment, then stopped. Then he woke up suddenly

and noticed my presence. A second later, he was looking at me as he knew that was the last

time he could see me again. "Me..ow..," said he with a rest of his weakly strength. I cried my

eyes out after hearing those words came out from his mouth, then, he started closing his eyes. I

could not feel his warm body anymore, his body was colder, and he finally rested in peace in my

hands. I had different feelings after that: shameful, guilty, sad, and I thought that I totally forgot

what the true friend was: helping, sharing, and sacrificing for each other – were known as

things I did not have.

I regretted and felt terrible about breaking the promise with him. I thought that keeping

a promise was very significant same as saving a person’s life. Every time I looked back about

these memories, I wondered what he was trying to say after flying to the heaven. Thinking of

that for months, I finally had an answer for myself, he said: "It's been nice to be your friend,

bro!" Like a song I wanted to hear every time I missed him: "Daydreamer" by Adele. But I felt

guiltier than getting peace in my soul when listening to this song: “…You can find him sittin' on

your doorstep/ waiting for a surprise/ and he will feel like he's been there for hours/ and you

can tell that he'll be there for life…” Every time I listened to this song, I always imagined in my

head just only one memorable scene: the black cat sitting on the backdoor, waiting for me,

waiting for his best friend coming back. Now I have written a novel about the tiny people who

think animals are their friends and their life as my memorial event, to remind me I must keep

the promise with other people, to get flashback about what true friends are every time I lose

my mind.