Signature with Love (Second Edition)

SIGNATURE WITH LOVE

Fisal Ally

Published by Fisal Ally at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 by Fisal Ally

BASED ON A TRUE STORY

This book is dedicated to Mohammed Mustapha who departed from this chapter of his journey on December 25, 2011, and his wife, Salima, who departed on November 7, 2007. May peace and blessings be upon both of you, and on all their journeys.

Second Edition – December 25, 2018

Published by Fisal Ally at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 by Fisal Ally

All rights reserved.

First Edition published on December 25, 2012

Published by Fyzal Ally at Smashwords

The author uses different spellings for his names

Copyright 2012 by Fyzal Ally / Fisal Ally

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

December 25, 2018 Smashwords Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-988288-72-7

www.fisalally.com / www.allymedia.ca

The reproduction of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the author is an infringement of the author’s copyright. The First Edition from December 25, 2012 will continue to exist without any modifications.

This book is an account of the stories revealed to the author by Mohammed Mustapha on his life with Salima and the pets that had entered their lives. Relatives of Mustapha had also provide some of the accounts. Although this is a story about cats, the pages also paints a love story of Mustapha and Salima and the hardships they had faced later in life while living in New York. There may be some inaccuracies while the author was recreating the events and story lines, however, the author has written the account of the stories to his best understanding, with the historical information provided. Some of the original names were changed in the first edition.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to Mustapha’s relatives who had assisted by sharing their knowledge and stories.

Special thanks to Tom O’Brien in the year 2012, and Sheriza Khrushed for reading through the book and assisting with the grammar edits, spell checks and suggestions.

Special thanks to Bronwen Strembiski for her knowledge in grammar, her assistance and for taking the time to explain to me the process of creating an eBook, and how and where to publish our eBooks back in the year 2012, while we were writing and editing our books at the café in St. Albert, Alberta, Canada, after a long workday at my job where I had worked as a Quality Manager. And with our perseverance and efforts, myself and others at the café worked very hard after work and on weekends to complete our books and artwork, while many in the café were socializing and some surfing the Internet.

ONE

A kitten at the backdoor

HOLLIS, QUEENS, NEW YORK - JUNE 20, 2000

Mustapha and Salima were having lunch in their Hollis, New York suite, when a warm summer breeze blew through their kitchen window.

Hon, did you hear that? she asked with a questioning glance.

Mustapha remained focused on the sports section of the newspapers. I thought I heard something?

Like a crying soung?

Crying?

I thought I heard some whimpering.

Mustapha glanced at Salima. Sounds more like screeching from the cars on Hillside. He lowered the papers, listening to the traffic coming from the avenue. He sipped his tea with an uneasy glance and said, Drivers are always losing their patience over nothing.

Hon this New York, Salima said and turned her head towards the doorway. It sounds like whimpering. She returned her gaze to her husband. Hon, this is New York. Yuh know, the big apple—people always busy and in a rush.

Mustapha let out a light laugh and said, Oh yes, yes, you mean the city the whole world wants to be in.

Hon, don’t remind me. You know, I like the busy life. We live in the world’s greatest city.

Mustapha chewed on his salad. But all the rush, traffic, noise, pollution—

And all that jazz—

I’m getting tired of it. After a while the novelty wears off.

Only for some. Many can’t live without this rush. New Yorkers love this busy life.

Mustapha inhaled deeply and a smile emerged on his face. You know how I relish those calm days back in Nandy Park.

Salima smiled. I know. I know. It’s laid back compared to New York. And we had about everything back there.

What can I say, but those were the days.

Salima got up and began clearing away the left overs from the table. Mustapha went to the kitchen and returned with a tablecloth and started to wipe the table. Salima stopped and turned towards the doorway, listening carefully.

Mustapha straightened up his body. He also heard a faint whimpering, and it wasn’t coming from Hillside. The whimpering grew and Salima left what she was doing and walked towards the doorway as Mustapha walked towards the kitchen. She hesitated and then walked up the stairs. She stopped halfway. The whimpering stopped for a brief moment and then started again. She hurried up the stairs and quickly opened the backdoor. Her head dropped as if she already knew what to expect. Much to her surprise, a small black kitten was at the backdoor crying with his head lowered, sitting on his hind paws. Salima moaned. The site of the kitten took her breath away. She stooped down and his bright shining green eyes came into view as if his eyes were illuminated from the inside. The kitten purred and lifted his head. Their eyes met for the very first time. Salima gasped and a sudden panic filled her eyes, witnessing the condition the two-month-old kitten was in. Her body stiffened as the kitten bristled with fright. She gasped in horror. Her body froze upon witnessing the blood dripping from the kitten’s mouth. His whimpering grew and a surge of emotions filled her, seeing the fright radiating from the kitten as his body shivered.

Oh my God, what happened? Salima gasped as the kitten tried to move towards her, but fell back on his hind legs, too weak to move. His mouth was twitching and from looking into his eyes, Salima heard him saying Help me, help me.

She crouched over and stroked the kitten’s head. A few seconds went by and his whimpering subsided.

Oh my God! Salima cried. She reached under, and the kitten willingly allowed her to scoop him into her arms. A tiny purr escaped from his mouth. She carefully straightened up her body, hoisting the kitten. What happened? She cried witnessing the horrible state the beautiful black kitten was in. She cuddled him in her arms and she could feel his heart thumping. She comforted him and he relinquished his trust to her.

The kitten was warm and fuzzy, and looked like black satin, except for a white streak that trickled down his forehead to his nose, another one from his chin down to his chest. The bottom of his paws were white and looked as though he was sporting little white boots, ready to play in the snow. Salima observed the kitten as he inhaled and exhaled soft tiny breaths. She closed the backdoor and carried him down the stairs to their suite.

Hon, come see, Salima called. Hon!

Mustapha had already cleared away the dishes from the table and was in the kitchen. He walked towards her holding a cloth. He squinted as a surprised look spread on his face. He stopped and then stepped forward and said, A kitten? Where in the world did you get this kitten? he asked.

Salima shrugged. You remember when I said I heard—

Yuh mean that crying noise.

Yes, and you thought it was the traffic. Hon, no, no, it was this little guy. He was at the backdoor crying.

He must have gotten lost on his way home.

I don’t know about that, hon. It seems like he was ruffed up by a bully—yuh know, one of those big cats - the cowards that prey on the smaller and weaker ones.

Suddenly, the gleam on Mustapha’s face faded. His jaw dropped as his eyes became fixed on the blood and mucus running down the sides of the kitten’s mouth. I’m coming back, he said and headed to the kitchen. This kitten needs a good wipe down.

Salima freed one hand, still holding the kitten. She walked over to the closet and pulled out a blanket and spread it on the couch as Mustapha entered the living room with a cloth and a small bucket filled with warm water. She carefully lowered the kitten onto the blanket and started to run her fingers through his fuzzy fur, caressing his back. Mustapha dipped the cloth in the water and gently wiped the blood from the kitten’s mouth. He rinsed the cloth and continued wiping away the blood and mucus. The kitten lift his head gazing at Mustapha, a tiny meow escaped from his mouth.

A smile emerged on Salima’s face. He’s trying to say something. I think he’s saying thank you. Are you trying to say something dear? The kitten hurled another meow from his throat.

Mustapha and Salima exchanged glances and smiled.

I’m coming back. Mustapha headed for the kitchen.

Hon, while you’re in the kitchen, please check the potatoes.

Mustapha picked up a knife and pressed it into a potato. It needs a bit more cooking. Salima was already preparing dinner. They had already made plans to go out, but their plans would have to wait for another day now that the kitten had needed their help.

Mustapha returned with a bucket of fresh water, a clean cloth, and a small bowl with water. Let him drink this water, he said holding the bowl at the kitten’s mouth.

Salima smiled. Hon, that’s very thoughtful, but this little guy isn’t drinking—he’s not even moving.

He could have been starved for days.

Salima encouraged the kitten to drink. She rubbed his head and the kitten began to hurl short piercing sounds at her. He’s trying to say something. What if he’s trying to tell us what happened to him.

Mustapha held the bowl closer to the kitten’s mouth.

The kitten’s glowing round eyes became fixed on Salima as she encouraged him to drink. He glanced at the water and back to Salima and then his little tongue emerged. Drink baby. The kitten lowered his head towards the water. He slapped the water with his tongue and pulled back. He drank a little more and then stopped.

A little is better than nothing, Mustapha said. He wiped down the rest of the kitten’s body: face, back, belly, legs and paws.

Emotions filled Salima. Her eyebrows furrowed. Such a beautiful kitten. Oh such a beautiful kitten. I—I just can’t imagine this little fella in such terrible condition and he was out there all by himself. She tensed up a little and stroked the kitten’s back. He looks much better—all cleaned up.

But he’s still not happy. I want to see a gleam on his face, Mustapha said.

Salima picked up the kitten and began to cuddle him. She then gazed into his big green eyes. She turned to Mustapha and said, When I heard that groaning earlier, it gripped me—like sometimes how the cats back in Nandy Park used to groan when they get into fist fights with the other cats, and when they came home tired and hungry throwing themselves on the floor like they were dead. I knew something wasn’t right. You know, just intuition.

Mustapha’s face brightened up from the mention of the cats back in Nandy Park. Many years had passed since they had last seen the cats in Nandy Park. Images of the four cats rolled through his head. The cats in Nandy Park were in a league of their own, Mustapha said. For a moment, the past gripped him. His smile faded as he focused back on the kitten, giving him his full attention. The kitten peered back at him. Mustapha broke out in a wide smile and said, And this little guy looks like he is in his own league.

Hon, you looked like you were in lala land just now.

Lala land? I was just reminiscing on the cats back in Nandy Park. He focused on the kitten. We better get him checked out right away. He’s still bleeding a bit. He doesn’t look right.

I could take him to the dispensary, Salima suggested. She tossed a lungful of air. Hon, please get my purse from the room. I should have a twenty. I’m going to take him to the dispensary—they must have something that could help him.

Mustapha went into the room and returned with Salima’s purse. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. There was also some change for the bus and she pulled out what she could get her hands on. Mustapha reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled some money and extended his hand. Walk with this, just in case.

Mustapha and Salima had never hesitated to assist others; in this case, they were helping a helpless and abandoned kitten that came to their door crying for help. They didn’t give it a second thought nor had a little doubt about helping the kitten; they already knew that the fate of this little soul had depended on them—their plans would have to wait for another day.

Cover him up, Mustapha said.

Pass me the small blanket - over there in the closet, she pointed. Mustapha hurried over to the closet and pulled out the blanket. Salima lift the kitten and Mustapha wrapped the blanket around him. See yuh later, hon, she said as she carefully walked out the doorway and up the stairs to the ground level. Mustapha followed her. He reached over and opened the backdoor.

Keep an eye on the potatoes.

Alright. Everything is under control. Be careful, okay.

Okay.

Watch your steps.

I’ll be back soon.

Don’t be long, and be careful.

Mustapha headed back down to their suite.

It was just after two o’clock in the afternoon, as Salima hurried down Hillside Avenue with the kitten cloaked in her arms. She was in a hurry and took long strides swirling around people.

Salima was five-feet-seven inches tall, fifty-six-years old, medium built, and wore a green dress just below her knees. Over the years, she had gained some weight, and although she was faced with some medical conditions, she was still very active. People passing by on Hillside peered into her arms with curious eyes. A girl became excited when she made out the kitten’s face peering out at her from the opening of the blanket. An elderly man smiled when he made eye contact with the kitten. Cats had a way of casting spells on humans, drawing their attention and gaining their affection. A lady’s face brightened up like a child when she saw the kitten—she waved at him and then smiled at Salima. Salima returned a hesitant smile as she hurried down the avenue; there was no time to spare a smile. The pace was fast and everybody seemed to be in a rush and in someone’s way. It was the New York life. Jusy busy. Life would not be the same in New York if people were not in a hurry. Traffic was heavy and car horns blared.

In just under ten minutes, Salima entered the front door of the pharmacy, which she and Mustapha always get their medication from. Instead of walking down the aisle in the store with Mustapha, this time Salima was carrying the kitten in her arms. She stopped in the line-up where customers were waiting to place their prescriptions. The person in front of her heard the cat purring and turned around. He was surprised to see the kitten peering back into his eyes as if to say, Please let us through, can’t you see I’m bleeding. Salima waved at the pharmacist. Oy! she called out. Oy! Excuse me this is urgent. She exposed the kitten and the pharmacist came out and hurried towards her.

This kitten’s mouth is bleeding, Salima quickly informed the pharmacist.

Blood? she said, having a closer look at the kitten.

I just found this poor little thing crying at my backdoor, bleeding, Salima said grimly. She could feel the kitten’s heart thumping against her arm. We already cleaned him up and wiped him down, but he’s bleeding again. Can you do something immediately to help him? The shoppers waiting in line agreed that the kitten needed immediate attention. Salima had a way of being direct, and always knew what she wanted. Please quickly!

I have a medication that will help.

Anything that will help. Please.

Come with me.

The pharmacist headed back to her work area and Salima followed as some of the customers smiled and waited patiently and that doesn’t often happen in New York with all of the rush. The pharmacist disappeared at the back, and shortly after returned with a medication. It’s liquid. It’s to be given every two hours, she instructed as she wiped away the blood and mucus from the kitten’s face with a wet cloth. She then opened the bottle, sucked up some of the medication with a medicine dropper and tried to feed the kitten.

The kitten turned his face away. She tried again and the kitten raised a paw and meowed, as if to say, Don’t like, don’t like.

Open mouth baby, Salima said soothingly. She repeated herself and the kitten succumbed to the medicine dropper being pushed into his mouth. The pharmacist squeezed and the kitten pulled away with a crunched face. His mouth twitched, trying to spit out the medicine. The pharmacist smiled. Customers also smiled, letting go of their urgency to have things done right away. Cats were an important part of the American society.

The pharmacist provided Salima with the liquid medication and medicine dropper, and Salima was thankful for the help of a professional. She paid for the medication and she was on her way home down Hillside Avenue with the kitten cradled in her arms. People smiled getting a glimpse of the kitten’s face as his eyes become fixed on them.

AT HOME, HOLLIS, QUEENS, NEW YORK - JUNE 20, 2000

Steam filled the air as a pot with rice boiled on a low-lit burner. Mustapha was helping out with dinner as he awaited Salima’s return. His thoughts were on the kitten. Suddenly, the past gripped him again.

LA PENITENCE, BRITISH GUIANA Guyana, SOUTH AMERICA - 1961

Mustapha was born on December 5th 1933 in La Penitence, a district of Georgetown, located in Demerara, British Guiana, South America. His full name was Mohammed Mustapha, but his name should have been Mohammed Mustapha Haniff. During his registration at birth, his last name was missed, and that was a common problem in British Guiana. He was twenty-seven-years old, five-feet-ten-inches tall, slim built and handsome. He was the eldest of six children and had completed his schooling at St. Stevens High School, and then at Enterprise, which was the equivalent to college. After completing Enterprise, Mustapha was hired by the Demerara Electric Company, a forty-minute bike ride from his home in Middle Road, La Penitence. Riding a bicycle was common and owning a car was a luxury. He rode a black Rudge bicycle to work, which was very special to him. The Rudge had belonged to his brother-in-law, Allen, who had departed from this journey two years ago in 1959 after he was held up during a robbery in the county of Berbice, while Allen and his brother, Deen, was working for a British company named Paulin & Company, and Allen was on duty traveling in a car with police escorts carrying lots of money to pay the workers.

Dressed in grey pants and short sleeves white shirt, Mustapha opened the front door on the second floor and stepped outside onto the verandah of the two-storey house, which was recently built by his father, Mohammed Haniff, and his mother, Hamidan. His father’s name should have been Mohammed Haniff Bacchus whose lastname was also missed on his birth certificate. Thus Mustapha’s real name should have been Mutapha Bacchus. Their lastname should have been Bacchus and not Haniff. Teddy got up from the platform wagging his tail to greet Mustapha. Peggy scuttled out from the house and onto the verandah.

Mustapha turned to Peggy and said, You stay. Peggy meowed. She wanted to go with him. She was a beautiful black cat with one green eye and one blue eye and little white streaks.

The air was fresh and calm from the overnight rainfall. Everything was lush and green; the earthy tang rose up into the tropical air. Mustapha inhaled deeply feeling a deep solace looking out from the verandah on the second floor. He felt the humidity on his skin. He could almost taste the moisture in the air. The golden Demerara sun was slowly rising and looked like a giant orange haze at the horizon. Mustapha smiled and went back inside for his Rudge. He gave his salaams to his mother, father and siblings as Teddy and Peggy watched from the verandah. He brought his bike out to the verandah and lifted it down the stairs. Teddy and Peggy scuttled down after him.