Imlaq — the gentle giant

Rasha al Raisi -

It was Friday early morning, the last day in November. Still in my Pajamas, I stood watching the giant, ancient looking cat that had just entered my garden. He was a skinny black and white feline with super filthy coat.

To ease the stress-related pain in my tummy, I took the famous Bonaparte pose and started reflecting on my rotten week so far: 1) I’d lost Zalata, one of my favourite kittens yesterday due to the flu.

I’ve been working so hard for the last two months to control the spread but it felt like Don Quixote fighting the wind mills, absolutely pointless 2) I’d just received an email cancelling a research project that I’ve been negotiating for a week due to “risky market prospect” 3) And now this cat! Taking a deep breath, I decided that it was time to stop the desperate thoughts and put on my Super Woman cape.

To assess his friendliness level, I bent down and extended my hand to his head. I gasped as I noticed a missing left eye and wondered if he had lost it due to the flu. The cat didn’t seem bothered by my touch, which eased the process of pushing him in the biggest cage I had. He hunched while entering and I decided to call him Imlaq: the giant.

Imalq had a voracious appetite and seemed to be parched all the time. I took him the next day to the vet, who as usual shook his head and wondered loudly where do I manage to get such miserable cats from. I always had the feeling that my vet had an image of me running around with a cage in my hand, hoarding all the cats I could manage before any given appointment. The reality was that they’d always appeared in my garden from thin air.

I suspect that they keep sharing the word in their social circles: “See that house on the left, Ginger? There lives a nice lady who provides food, blankets and free veterinary services. But beware of the cage! Whatever happens, NEVER get in!”.

The vet announced that Imalq was neutered and that his missing eye was removed surgically. It meant that he was someone’s pet that was either abandoned or had lost his way home (this explained his friendliness).

We decided to keep him in the clinic as he was super dehydrated and had mouth ulcers, which could be signs of kidney failure. A few days later, I went to see Imlaq and he looked better. He was on a drip and the nurse told me that he’d tried to attack her while she was changing the drip for him. The vet was astonished to see the gradual progress that Imlaq was making.

Despite being outdoors, Imlaq was only suffering from a blood parasite that was curable with medicine. The vet decided to release him a couple of days later. Maria — the nurse who was in charge of him — was a great fan of Imlaq as he turned out to be a sweet cat.

On the day of his release, Imlaq wasn’t at his best. He was vomiting and the vet decided to delay his release. Since then, Imlaq’s health started deteriorating. He suddenly developed kidney failure, which was expected at his old age. After staying for almost two weeks at the vet’s, Imlaq gave up the fight and died peacefully. Although that I never knew Imlaq well, but I felt sad losing him. I’m glad that he found his way to my garden and got some attention and love in his final days.

Rasha al Raisi is a certified skills trainer and the author of: The World According to Bahja. rashabooks@yahoo.com