I've done many repulsive tasks in my life but none have come close to cleaning cat litter. Each evening I drag myself to the store room — a witness to endless shoveling and scraping — and scoop away as the strong scent of ammonia laced with hints of broken-down cat food compounds singe my nasal hair.  It's not as much the rancidity as it is the routine that I'm averse to. You could compare it to men complaining about having to shave every day or a teenager whining about chores.

Being a novice, I used to wear a pair of rubber gloves to pick up the pieces (pun intended) — restore the litter box (and our store room) to a more normal state after the disaster — while Mili has a fairly regular bowel movement and doesn't usually resort to guerrilla tactics, she does drop the occasional stink bomb. Eventually, I invested in a shovel, which made the process slightly less revolting. 

Throughout the ordeal, Mili accompanies me. It's natural for her to be territorial and for the longest time she did express her displeasure. However, for a while now, I have, on more than one occasion, sensed her gratitude. She doesn't get all riled up like she used to but looks carefully, truly thankful, as I dig for buried treasure. Call me a crazy cat lady but energy never lies. This endearing gesture on her part has further strengthened our bond. The joy of knowing that I make a difference to someone's life is unparalleled. Mili, in turn, has enriched mine. I wonder if she understands this. I wonder if it brings her joy.

I found Mili when I was stuck in an infinite loop, ready to crash. Don't get me wrong. It was a fulfilling life, but I couldn't see it no matter how hard I tried. We all need perspective sometimes and Mili offered me just that; an orphaned kitten, rescued from the jaws of a wild world to be thrust into a house full of strangers, who refused to give up. She got on with life without so much as mourning or recovering from the past that she had so unfairly been dealt — Mili had no time to think about how she didn't have her mother to nurse or groom her because she was too busy learning to do those things on her own; she jumped at the opportunity of wrestling with a stuffed toy dog rather than sulk about no siblings to playfight with. Mili simply accepted her reality and lived in the moment. 

We often get caught up with how life must look like instead of accepting it for what it is. It's an infinite loop, the only respite from which is graceful acceptance, as I have come to realize. Mili is the one who helped me realize this and for that I will be forever grateful. 

Did I ever tell you why I named her Mili? Mili means "found her" in Hindi; I found her on the stairs of my building or rather, she found me. I never intended to foster her, let alone adopt her but things happened the way they did. They say, everyone who crosses our path, does so for a reason. Why Mili and I crossed paths is clear — she helped me find myself.