I would be lying to you if I denied missing you petting campus felines along the red bricks of the Academic Oval in the wee hours of the morning. I reckon it is a longing for the times when our worlds would fall silent—if only for a moment—and we could pretend we were the last two people on our little planet.

You would always try to convince me that I should love cats too—not out of concern for abandoned animals but because you were so convinced they were cute. Perhaps, you even outsourced your need for self-actualization to cat-petting. To be fair, some cats deliberately ran to you, circling around you as if drawn by some invisible force. They liked you, no doubt.

We both knew that cats would never understand human speech, no matter how much you baby-talked to them or code-switched between “pspspsps” and “meow, meow, meow…” Once—and this was my favorite—you even named a cat “Orange” without its consent. It would never understand you. You had already claimed that cats have the IQ of a two-year-old child. Your source? A random Quora forum from a decade ago.

I don’t fault you, though. In fact, I never minded pausing briefly whenever we walked just to pet a cat—or to mock them when they ignored you. I never minded seeing your face light up in those small encounters. They were priceless moments.

As much as I don’t like cats because of their fur—a death sentence to my weak lungs—seeing you melt and giggle made my heart melt and giggle as well. It was a scene akin to a child opening gifts on Christmas morning.

Those were simpler times—when we didn’t have to worry about paying bills or, as the kids would say, “adulting.” Our biggest concerns were going home too late and missing the last Ikot jeep at 9:20 p.m. We only worried about unserious things—whether rogue cats should be fed, whether you would oversleep, whether you would walk through Krus na Ligas or along Maginhawa. (Either way, there were cats.)

Of course, we don’t pretend we’re still stuck in that bygone era. To do so would be foolish. Reality bites hard—just like that cat in Vinzons Hall that tried to chomp your palm after you petted her for too long.

But don’t forget the cats we met along the way. Don’t forget those little pockets of joy we shared, especially in our most trying moments. May the cat-petting along our late-night walks remind you that darkness isn’t always pitch black. Sometimes, if you look closely enough, you’ll see a pair of glowing cat eyes. And you will pet them. And I will watch over you. And we will both chuckle.

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