Burying Lancôme
Nurul Ain Binti Nor Halim
17th March 2023
Burying Lancôme
7/1/2023 5:05 PM
I took a shower.
Afterwards, I put on medicine for the painful mosquitos bites.
7/1/2023 approximately 4:50 PM
"What a shame", my brother muttered.
His eyes pointed at the red plastic bag lying still on the ground beside me, hinting that it's time to put it in.
"You don't have to put the newspaper in by the way."
"Oh, okay... Do I put the plastic in?"
"No, no you don't."
"Just Lancôme?"
"Yes."
I tried to unwrap the red plastic bag, and then the newspaper–
"Just put Lancôme in and unwrap him inside, it's easier that way.", he explained as he had done this numerous times before.
"Oh, I see."
I followed his instructions. There goes Lancôme, lying still in the dug out hole.
It looked like Lancôme smiled.
We both looked at Lancôme, silently saying our farewells.
My brother grabbed the hoe and started burying him.
7/1/2023 approximately 4:45 PM
Chk, chk, chk... chk, chk chk
My brother meticulously chops the soil into grids, digging them out, making a hole.
I couldn't do anything but watch him repeating the same motion.
I Occasionally clapped the air, in attempt to squish the mosquitos that bothered me.
"Chk, chk chk... Almost there."
"Mhm."
I wondered what the name of one of the tools he was using.
It's not a hoe since the other one is.
It's not a shovel either since the metal part is just a square yet it acts similar to a shovel.
7/1/2023 approximately 4:40 PM
"Do I follow him?"
"Yes, go and follow your brother to the garden"
I went on my way.
With powdered latex gloves on, I carried the red plastic bag.
Inside was Lancôme, wrapped in newspaper, uncannily similar to a burrito.
"Just like that, huh" I thought to myself.
7/1/2023 approximately 4:35 PM
Clean cloth. Cotton bud. Tissue. Okay, got everything.
"Lancôme?"
"Hey?"
The silence stiffens my body.
Slowly my heart felt heavy.
I wasn't really sure what I was seeing– no, more like I didn't want to believe in what I was seeing.
"Why are you not moving? Are you still ... breathing?"
I approach his small feeble body and knelt down.
Placed my right hand on his body and my left hand under his chin.
I was confused.
His body is still…still or warm? Is this death?
I tried to feel his breath but I was too confused. Deep down I knew I couldn't accept his death.
He was just breathing a few moments ago.
It wasn't even that long that I went to grab a new cloth so he could lay down warmly and cleanly.
How come he's not alive anymore?
I didn't even get to say goodbye. Why? Wait, did you really die?
In disbelief, I went inside and asked for my mother to see what I'm seeing.
"Is it just me but is he not breathing anymore?"
"Yeah, he died"
"Like his body is still warm... sort of"
"He died."
"But I was cleaning his wounds, he was breathing, he-"
"And he died, the wounds must be too much for him."
...
"So what now?"
"We bury him."
7/1/2023 approximately 4:30 PM
"Me-", Lancôme let out a weak meow as I cleaned his wounds.
I wiped the wound with cotton buds dipped in disinfectant.
He couldn't move his legs. He is probably paralyzed. It looked like his legs were squished. Must have been a car or motorcycle.
It must have been painful.
His wounds are not bleeding– they look more like a scratch. A deep scratch that you could see the flesh and a hint of bone through it.
The flies compete with me. I try to clean the wounds. They try to lay their eggs on the wounds.
Ants. The ants has arrived. They try to taste the flesh. I try to keep the flesh away from them.
Lancôme fights for breaths, barely surviving. I try to comfort him.
I didn't realize how overwhelming it was.
Ah, I ran out of cotton buds. I'll be back.
7/1/2023 approximately 4:22 PM
"He's not going to make it."
My eldest brother informed me as soon as I came back from my appointment outside.
"What do you mean?"
"His wounds from the accident yesterday have turned white and yellow, the flies are starting to come too."
"I'll clean him then, I saw him moving around in the morning– well, limping."
"Yeah, but I think it got worse, maybe it's too late now, even if we send him to the vet."
"I'm gonna try either way, I'll clean him up first"
"Well, I hope your efforts will work."
"Move."
Unknown date, unknown time
“You know, cats sometimes have fabulous and almost luxurious behavior.”
“Hahaha. What do you mean? “
“It's sort of similar to luxury brands. Like, don't they seem to be elegant or chic when in reality they're just cats.”
“Ah, like how bags are displayed extravagantly but at the end of the day they're just bags?
Yeah, and some even become sassy or maybe they're just territorial.”
“Territorial probably.”
“Maybe we should name the stray cats in our neighborhood luxury brands.“
“Luxury brands for stray cats.”
“Maybe we should name the orange and white cat, Lancôme.”