My Forbidden Affair with the Orange Next Door
Episode 1
The day my new neighbour moved in, I knew something was suspicious. All their windows were fully meshed. The door also meshed.
Maximum security setup. I thought, “Wah… what are they keeping inside?”
A few days later, I saw them assembling a giant cat tree in the living room. I whispered to myself, “Ooooooh… they got cat.”
But strangely, I never saw him. I could smell cat energy. You know that feeling? The air feels fluffy. Then one morning, before heading to AMK-Bishan Park, I looked up and THERE HE WAS. Sitting on his treehouse throne. Orange. Majestic. Slightly chonky. Watching the world like he pays property tax.
Our eyes locked. For a few seconds. Too long to be accidental.
In that moment, I’m quite sure he sensed it. “A crazy cat lady is living next door.”
For a few days, we just stared at each other like two introverts in different countries. Then one day, I blinked slowly. He blinked back. A soft, gentle blink. And my heart just… collapsed.
If you know cats, you know. That slow blink is not casual. That is emotional commitment.
Then came The Incident. One afternoon, the owner was not at home. He was at his usual spot. I walked closer to the window. He stood up immediately. Alert. Interested. I stretched my hand towards the mesh. He stretched his paw.
Our hands touched. Through the grill.
Like some Romeo-and-Juliet-but-HDB-edition tragedy. It was sealed. We are now emotionally entangled.
The next day, he stretched his long orange head forward and allowed me to pat him. Stroke his neck. Gosh. We are impossible lovers.
He lives in # 137
I live in # 139
Our main doors are just opposite each other, between us: mesh, grilles, and social boundaries.
But when he slow blinks at me? Nothing else matters.
February 2026
Episode 2
I was doing my work in the living room, my main door was open. I like to keep the door open when I’m working there — it lets the fresh air come in. Then I heard it.
A soft, soothing meow. Not once. Several times.
Suddenly I stopped. I know that voice. I quietly got up, crawled over to the side of the door, and peeked outside.
And behold! There he was. Standing just at the meshed door across the corridor, looking straight at me. So regal. So handsome. Eyes big and shining.
When he saw me, he meowed louder, as if saying: “There you are… where have you been?”
And our conversation began. I asked him gently, “Well… well hello there neighbour. Good to see you in your full form, standing like that.”
He replied with a very long: “Meeeeeeeeow.”
As if I understood completely. But still I had to reply: “So how has your day been in there?”
He gave not one, but two long meows.
Just when I thought we were about to have a very nice conversation, he suddenly looked to the side and rushed off.
Then I heard the voice of the lady master: “Who are you talking to?”
Immediately I pulled back and returned to my work.
It felt exactly like two forbidden lovers caught red-handed.
Someone once asked me, “Why don’t you just go over to the couple and say hi? Who knows, they might let you play with the cat.”
I have thought about that too. But you know… I suspect the wife already knows that there is a crazy cat lady living next door. And the one time she saw me, she suddenly became very protective of her cat.
As you know how cats are. You buy them the best toys. The best scratching post. The most luxurious cat bed. And where do they prefer to be? Under the table. Or worse. Running over to the neighbour’s house and refusing to come back. Which is probably what she is afraid of.
And honestly… I understand her concern. Because if that orange fellow ever manages to escape the mesh and cross the corridor… I cannot guarantee he will find his way home again.
So while continuing with my work, suddenly this mind started working. The mind of the crazy cat lady.
What if… This mind whispered. What if I just quietly slipped a small notice into their letterbox? Something very simple. “Pet sitter available in your block. Cat lover. Call this number.” Very innocent. Very professional.
But then I started imagining the other scenario. Me knocking on their door. “Hello neighbour! I’m a pet sitter. If you ever go on holiday, I don’t mind coming in to pet sit your cat.”
Immediately I imagined the wife’s face. Alarm bells ringing. Security level upgraded from Maximum Security Mesh to National Emergency Lockdown. Because honestly, if a neighbour came to my door and said that, I would also think: This one got agenda.
Also, it slightly reminds me of those horror stories. You know. The babysitter. The nice friendly babysitter. The one who slowly becomes too attached to the child. Except in this case, it’s not a child. It’s a very handsome orange cat from #137.
So maybe introducing myself directly is not a good idea. Better to be subtle. Very subtle. Just a small, harmless leaflet in the letterbox. Nothing suspicious. Nothing dramatic.
Just a simple message: “Pet sitter available in your block.” And then… we see what happens. Because sometimes, in matters of love— especially forbidden corridor love— one must be patient. Very patient.
EPISODE 3
Yesterday… it finally happened. The door opened… and like a prisoner who had memorised the rhythm of freedom, he ran. Not a hesitation. Not a glance back. Straight out.
He bolted… straight towards the staircase. Freedom. His humans panicked. They ran after him, calling, chasing and just in time… they caught him.
Of course, I heard everything.
My main door was open…and doing my work at the living room, but I didn’t step out. Dont want to make it so obvious.
Yes… this is exactly what I expected. Because you see… I understand the mind of a cat.
You can keep them indoors.
You can buy them the best toys.
You can give them gourmet food, soft beds, and endless affection…
But the moment they see the world outside, the birds, the wind, the unknown, something ancient awakens in them.
And they will find a way. Always, because you cannot silence that pull. The world outside is calling.
I just… peeked from the side of the door. Quietly. Carefully. (One must maintain standards, after all.)
And then I saw them… bringing him back up the stairs. And then, he looked at me. Those eyes. Not wild. Not scared. But something else… Something that felt almost like, pleading.
As if to say, “You understand, don’t you?”
So now… I wait. I wait for the day. The day when he goes missing… And I “accidentally” find him. And in that moment, I already know what I will do.
I will carry him home. Quietly. Secretly.
And when my husband and daughter look at me, pleading, negotiating, questioning my sanity: “Return the cat,” they will say.
And I will look at them… and refuse.
Because some love stories… are simply meant to be complicated
May 2026
For the past few days, I’ve been walking up and down the corridor… hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s not there. Not at his usual tree house nor at the spot.
I was getting upset and concern.
Then yesterday… I saw the window open. The window beside the cat house. The one he normally climbs through before waiting there like some orange Romeo.
So naturally…I peeked in. The house was empty, and goodness me.
The living room is so messy. These young people ah… don’t they know how to tidy up their house? Clothes everywhere. Shoes nowhere near the shoe rack. And the socks…
THE SOCKS STILL ON THE FLOOR.
Absolute chaos, but my eyes were searching for only one thing.
The orange cat. And then…there he was. Stretched out on the sofa in full glory… like how cats do when they trust the entire universe. One paw out. Tummy exposed. Completely relaxed.
I stood there looking at him…Longing to run my palm across that fluffy orange tummy.
Then suddenly, a voice behind me. My husband.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at the cat.”
“You cannot simply peek into other people’s house like that.”
“But the window is open… and I’m not doing anything harmful. I’m just looking at the cat.”
From down the corridor, my daughter shouted: “Maaaaaa… the lift is here!”
Just then, the orange one opened his eyes…and looked at me. Slowly, he got up, preparing to move towards the tree house.
But by then, I had already started backing away. I waved goodbye to him…then ran towards the lift where my husband and daughter were waiting.
Both of them just shook their heads at me, as if I’m the problem here.
The next morning, I was about to head to the market with my daughter…and there he was. Sitting proudly on his little throne again, as if waiting for me.
Not as if … actually, I’m quite sure he was waiting for me.
Cats can sense these things. When their favourite person is nearby… somehow, they just know.
And honestly, this is not my first experience with such things. Before I got married, when I was still staying with my parents, I had four cats. All of them were extremely attached to me.
My father used to laugh and tell people: “These cats ah… will sleep on her bed or under her bed. Only come out when they want to eat or go toilet.”
Then he would shake his head and say: “But suddenly… all of them will get up and wait by the main door.”
And somehow…a few minutes later, I would arrive home. They always knew.
So when I saw the orange one sitting there that morning…waiting on his throne like some fluffy little king…I knew. He had been waiting for me too 😌🐱
We locked eyes.Then slowly… he stretched out his paw towards me and extended his long orange neck that familiar gesture of trust.
An invitation. I reached out and touched him. I massaged his paw gently… then stroked that long fluffy neck of his.
And then the Prrrrrrrrrrr. Aaaaah!!
The sound of a cat purring is honestly one of the most satisfying sounds on earth. Peace. Joy. Healing.
Then suddenly…I noticed something. A tracker. They had attached a tracker around his neck. I looked at him.
And immediately my brain translated his actions: Ahhhhh… so THAT’S why you were stretching your neck towards me.
He was trying to tell me. “Look what they’ve done to me.”
Now how to escape again? This time surely they can find him already.
And then… the mind started “Hmmm…Can always cut off the tracker…”
At that exact moment, my daughter’s voice appeared behind me. As if she could read my thoughts directly from my face.
She looked at me… then at the cat… then back at me. Immediately she asked: “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do right?”
“What?”
“Cutting off the tracker.”
“Why would I think of such a thing?” And she just gave me…that look. That deeply disappointed look people give before someone commits a crime 😌🐱
Then I casually said: “But what if the tracker… drops off by itself?”
My daughter stopped walking. “Maaa…Tracker don’t just drop off on their own.” A pause. “Without your help.”
I gave her that look back. Then she continued: “It’s not your cat.”
To which I replied very calmly: “Well… the cat will decide whose cat he wants to be. Not for us humans to decide.”
Another long stare.
Another disappointed shake of the head. “Maaaaaaaa…”
And then we continued walking towards the market together. But honestly…my mind still could not let it go.
What if…I try to communicate mentally with him? Cats can read people’s minds. I am quite sure of this. How else do they always know?
How else do they sense sadness… loneliness… the sound of their favourite person reaching home before anyone else?
Perhaps tonight…I shall attempt telepathic communication with the orange one.
Maybe I will stand quietly by the corridor and mentally project: “Be strong. Freedom is near.” 😌🐱
Episode 5.
It has become our routine. At a very specific time each day, he will be there… waiting. \
And I, like a very suspicious housewife, will conveniently “need to go downstairs.”
“Buy what?”
“Just something small.”
What “small thing”… nobody has ever seen.
That day, I came back from my friend’s house. She went on holiday and asked me to pet sit her cats. Three cats. Very affectionate type. The kind that don’t believe in personal space. Sit on lap. Climb on shoulder. Rub all over you like you are some moving scratching post.
I didn’t do anything wrong ok. They came to me.
Anyway, I reached home… and there he was. Sitting on his treehouse like usual. Waiting.
So naturally, I walked over and stretched out my hand to pet him. He leaned forward. Smelled my hand.
Paused.
Then suddenly— His eyes opened wide.
And he hissed.
I froze. “Huh??”
For a moment,
I was confused. Then slowly… it dawned on me. Oh no. The smell.
To him, I am no longer “the neighbour.”
I am now… “The one who went to cheat with other cats.”
Since that day, everything changed. He still sits at the treehouse. But the moment I go near… He hiss. Turn. Run inside.
Like I am some untrustworthy person.
Honestly ah… very unfair. I didn’t bring any cat home. I didn’t even hug them for long.
They are the ones who came to sit on me. I just… accepted fate.
But try explaining that… to a cat.
1st July
Episode 6
Eventually, I decided enough was enough. If he wanted to ignore me, then I would ignore him too. I have dignity. At least a little. Whenever I walked past his window and saw him sitting there, I immediately looked away. Not a glance. I would walk straight ahead as though he didn't exist.
As though we had never spent months exchanging slow blinks across an HDB corridor. Of course... Using the corner of my eye, I could still see everything. I could see him watching and his eyes following me. I could see him waiting. Expecting me to come over and to scratch his neck.
Me to forgive him, but I didn't. I let him wonder. Let him reflect upon his actions and let him sit on his expensive cat tree and think about what he had done. After all, I was merely pet sitting. The other cats had sat on my lap voluntarily. Surely that was not a crime.
Then came Saturday morning. I was leaving for my regular morning walk when I saw him. Sitting there. Waiting. As though nothing had happened. Our eyes met. Neither of us looked away. For a few seconds, we simply stared at each other. Then...He blinked. Slowly. Deliberately. I froze, because cat people know, that blink means something.
So I blinked back. Slowly. Deliberately. He blinked again. I blinked again. And just like that, a diplomatic negotiation was taking place without either party speaking a single word.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Peace talks successful. No apology or explanation. No discussion about the three cats. Just a blinking session. That was all it took.
I walked over. He remained where he was. No hissing. No running away ordramatic behaviour. Instead, he stretched out his paw towards me and I reached out and touched it gently.
Aaaah. Still soft. Ridiculously soft. The sort of softness that instantly destroys every principle you claimed to have.
Then came the final gesture. He stretched out his long orange neck. The invitation. The request. The official approval for petting to resume. I began rubbing his neck. Massaging under his chin. Scratching behind his ears.
And then... Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
There it was. The sound. The glorious sound, I had missed. Honestly, cat purring must be one of the most satisfying sounds on Earth.
You hear it and suddenly everything seems better.
Stress disappears.
Life feels simpler.
The world makes sense again.
And as the purring continued, I knew.
Everything was forgiven and forgotten. The betrayal and the hissing. The silent treatment. The emotional damage. Gone. Reduced to nothing by one blinking session, one soft paw, one fluffy orange neck, and a very powerful purr, because that is the thing about cats.
No matter how determined you are to stay angry.
No matter how much dignity you think you have.
The moment they start purring...
They win.
Every single time. 🧡🐱
Episode 7
We are good now. Everything is back to normal. The blinking sessions. The neck scratches and the purring. The daily corridor meetings. Peace has returned once again. He often gives long meows whenever he sees me. A full conversation.
Now, some studies say cats do understand human language. Looking at him, I can believe that. The problem isn't whether he understands me but that I have absolutely no idea what he is saying. He gives one long meow. I reply. He gives another long meow. I continue the conversation. Then he meows again.
By this point, I have already invented an entire topic for us. Probably he's telling me about his day or he's complaining about his humans.
He knows I have treats for him or he's simply saying: "Human, why are you still standing there?"
I don't know, but that has never stopped me from responding as though I do. And judging by how seriously he continues the conversation, I suspect he thinks I understand him too.
Sometimes, when I spend time with the orange one, a thought crosses my mind about catnapping him. At least not exactly. More about freedom. Also not because I want to keep him.
Just because I want to know what it's like to hold that fluffy orange fellow in my arms. But honestly, it would be impossible. This fellow is far too noisy.
The moment he sees me, he starts talking. Long meows. Very long meows. The sort of meows that make sure everyone within a 20-metre radius knows he has spotted somebody important.
Besides, where am I going to hide him? The first thing he would do is start talking. And he talks a lot. So perhaps the orange one is safest where he is. Across the corridor. In his kingdom.
On his treehouse throne. Supervising the neighbourhood and providing unsolicited commentary every time I walk past.
And honestly... I think that's exactly where he belongs.
I watch the community cats around the neighbourhood. They come and go as they please. They choose where to sleep. Who to visit. Which void deck to patrol. Which human to ignore. The whole world belongs to them.
Then I look at this orange one, Safe. Loved. Spoiled beyond reason. A giant cat tree. Wall-mounted cat furniture. More climbing equipment than some playgrounds. And yet... Behind the mesh. Always behind the mesh.
Sometimes I wonder what he thinks when he watches the birds outside.
Does he dream of being out there? Or is he perfectly happy exactly where he is? The truth is... I don't know. Just as I don't know what all those long meows mean.
One day I was waiting for the lift. There he was at his usual spot.
The moment our eyes met: "MEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!" So loud and dramatic, as if he was announcing my arrival to the entire block.
Then I heard his owner from inside the house. "Who are you meowing at?"
Immediately I saw a shadow moving towards the window. And without thinking... I stepped into the lift the moment the owner face appear at the window.
I stood inside the lift quietly. Hidden. Safe. Honestly, I don't know why I did that. Pure instinct.
Perhaps because explaining the situation sounded difficult.
Imagine trying to explain:
"Oh, nothing suspicious."
"Your cat and I just have a standing appointment."
"We've been having daily corridor conversations for months."
"We recently survived a relationship crisis involving three other cats."
"Everything is fine now."
Yeah... The lift suddenly seemed like the better option.
One secret I never tell anybody is what I always carry cat treats in my bag, because along my walks, there are the community cats. Just in case I meet one of them. Cats under void decks. Cats hiding near bushes. Cats sleeping beside coffee shops. And I simply cannot ignore them.
And when I do, I usually stop. Sit down. Offer them a treat. Spend a little time with them. Sometimes that is all a cat wants. A snack and a little company.
And so when I saw this orange one waiting, I offered him the same treats I offer to the community cats, goodness me... he loved them. The moment he heard the packet rustling, those eyes would become enormous.
Suddenly I wasn't just the neighbour anymore. I was the treats supplier. Then He would lean forward and smell my hand and I could see his eyes widen. The other cats. He could smell them.
And honestly, I had to set the record straight. "Look here, orange boy. You are very handsome. Very fluffy and very orange. but you're not the only cat in the world." I reminded him again. "You were once like them, before someone rescued you, before the luxury cat tree, the wall-mounted cat house, the climbing shelves and the all-inclusive lifestyle package. Seriously ah... the way your owners spoil you. Some people don't even have a house with that many features."
Then I looked him straight in the eye. "So accept it. This is who I am. I meet community cats. I feed community cats. I pet community cats. Sometimes community cats sit on my lap. And no, I will not be apologising."
He stared back at me. Probably judging me. Cats are very good at judging people. Eventually, he seemed to accept the arrangement, finally understood and reached a practical conclusion.
Something like: "Who cares how many cat affairs you have? As long as you keeps bringing treats." And honestly…that is probably the most cat-like conclusion possible.
As I stood there talking to the orange one, my eyes naturally wandered around the house. The cat area was immaculate and spotless. The wall shelves were neatly arranged and the cat house looked like it belonged in an interior design magazine.
Then I looked at the living room. Goodness me. Complete disaster. Luggage bags still on the floor. Half open. Clothes sticking out. Things everywhere.
Honestly, the cat's living quarters were far better organised than the humans'. Which led me to an unavoidable conclusion. The orange one was clearly the responsible adult in the household. These young people were merely his staff.
The luggage situation continued to bother me. Not because of the mess. Well... partly because of the mess. But mostly because luggage means travel. And travel means opportunities. This required further investigation. Nothing dramatic. Just basic information gathering. Purely for cat-related purposes.
After all, if they travel frequently, somebody has to look after the orange one. And if somebody has to look after the orange one... Why not the neighbour? Very convenient. Same floor. No transport required. No travel time. Premium service.
Of course, before any proposal can be made, one must gather intel. How often do they travel? Long trips or short trips? Who currently looks after the cat? Do they already have a regular cat sitter?
Important and strategic questions.
And so a new mission was born.
Operation Orange.
Step One: Gather information.
Step Two: Evaluate opportunities.
Step Three: Introduce cat-sitting services. Casually. Professionally. Definitely not in a way that suggests I have spent the last year building a relationship with their cat.
The challenge, however, is how to introduce myself as a cat sitter without appearing suspicious. Or worse... Frightening the lady owner.
"Why don't you just get your own cat?" somebody asked me once.
Not because I cannot. The problem is... I live with my in-laws. And unfortunately, they are not cat people.
Yet. Every great mission requires patience. So for now,
I have embarked on my latest project: Gradual Feline Exposure Therapy™ A Practical Guide to Converting Non-Cat People Into Cat People By: A Totally Unbiased Cat Person. Which is me, of course.
My daughter has already been converted. That mission was completed many years ago. After all it in her genes.
My husband has also been converted. Well... perhaps "converted" is not the correct word. More accurately, he married a cat person and eventually accepted that cats, community cats, cat videos and random cat conversations are now permanent features of his life. He had no choice.
Now my attention has shifted to the next candidate. My sister-in-law. The interesting thing is that she doesn't dislike cats. She has simply never been properly exposed to one. There is a difference.
You cannot expect someone to appreciate cats if they have never experienced:
• a kitten drinking milk from a bottle,
• the wobbling ears,
• the tiny paws,
• the tiny squeaks,
• or a cat deciding your lap belongs to them.
Therefore, the therapy begins. Nothing aggressive. Just subtle exposure.
A cute cat video here.
A kitten rescue story there.
Perhaps a photograph then another video.
Purely educational material.
Over time, these things accumulate.
Then one day the subject will say: "Aiyoh... quite cute." Progress.
Then several weeks later: "Show me that kitten video again."
Breakthrough.
Eventually, one day, a cat will walk into the house. And when that day comes, I will remain calm.
I will not say: "I told you so."
Instead, I will simply smile and say: "The cat has chosen our house. We should feel honoured."
And thus, Phase 7 of Gradual Feline Exposure Therapy [1] will be complete.
The cat distribution system works in mysterious ways. 😆
Note :
[1] See Gradual feline Exposure Therapy
August 2026
