Over dinner, my mother quipped that ever since my cat was brought home, she hasn’t once struck the lottery. In case I haven’t told you, my mother buys the lottery three times a week, and she wins, on an average of once a month. I retorted that she could ask her trusted FengShui Master, oh Mistress sorry, to come up with a solution to reflect the bad aura.
“There is one”, she said with a jeer. “Just send him away lor.” Infuriated, I asked her what exactly is wrong with having a cat in the household. “Kelly (the FengShui Mistress) said that cats and tigers belong to the same family,” she said matter-of-factly. Not wanting to ask her the obvious, which in case you didn’t know, is a loud and nasal ‘So?!’, I asked with a frown, “But Daddy is a Tiger, what?”
Then in a calm voice that is classic of her, my mother replied, “Your Daddy is a dormant Tiger. Your cat is a roaming one.” I could only look at my poor dad and clamp my lips shut so that I don’t spit out the rice that I was chewing.