Only one kitten had survived. No one knew what to do with a runt, so it was gifted to my niece who fell upon it crying " Lucy! Lucy! Lucy cat!" Lucy survived in spite of herself. She showed no taste for life, for milk, for cuddles; drooping around the house, the picture of neglect. And then came that first visit to the vet. He poked and prodded and gave her a clean bill of health and then very kindly pointed out that 'she' was a male.
"You'll have to find another name," I said. "No!" said my niece fiercely.
"Call him Babu," offered Jadavji, our driver. She only sulked, close to tears.
But next morning, she shook me awake, eyes shining like stars, "Pishi! I know - I'll call him Luchibabu!" Tucked under her arm, the cat gave a loud meow of approval.
And that is how Luchibabu got his name.
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This flash fiction was first published on Instagram on 13 August, 2021.
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