Me: That guy who lives in the house behind the hospital? He’s complaining that his house vibrates. I don’t know what to do about this.
Mark: Hey, I hear there’s some kittens up for adoption at the church.
or
Me: Mark? Someone brought their herd of sheep onto the grounds, and they’re storming the eastern olive orchard.
Mark: You know, maybe you should get a cat.
So last night I was on my way back from Arabic classes and got a call from Mark who needed to give me a key before he left for his month-long vacation in the States.
“Yeah, just come by so I can give you this key before I leave,” he said. “There are these kittens--” I heard, before my cell phone cut out. So I got the key and Mark walked over to the road to show me this dumb little kitten who seemed to be living in the rusting shed across the street and kept darting into the road, then scurrying back when cars zoomed by. He was mewing and skittish and hadn’t quite figured out that cars can kill. So for 30 minutes Mark and I tried to corner and catch the little guy. And then his brother came out of the shed across the street, so we tried to get him too. Mark ran to his car to grab a laundry basket that was in there and I held this at the base of the fence that the kittens were darting in and out of while Mark tried goading them into the basket. Finally we got them in there, one hissing, the other trembling at the bottom of this basket. So there I am, holding a basketful of feral kittens, and Mark says “Now when you give them milk, water it down a little bit. And they probably can eat some real food at this point too. See you in a month!” And all the sudden I seem to be a cat owner.
Cats aren’t really my thing, and I have this theory that a lot of women who go abroad by themselves end up going kind of crazy and start collecting animals as a result. I’ve seen it happen and it’s not pretty. There was, of course, Maddie Cat, who belonged to a roommate of mine last year. Maddie Cat is ugly as sin:
but we had a special little bond and she’s one of the few cats I’ve actually liked. So maybe with two attractive cats that look like this:
and like this:
I’ll find that they grow on me.
I got them set up on my porch last night with a bowl of watery milk and a flannel sheet in their basket. The one in the basket, above, has a limp of some sort in his back legs, so he’s stayed on the porch lapping milk, chomping canned tuna, laying in the shade and cuddling in the basket. His brother is the feistier of the two and keeps running away, but I figure if I keep food out consistently he’ll keep coming back. He still hisses at me when I get close.
The guards are already more won over by the little guys than I am, putting out their own bowl of milk and helping me chase after feisty cat as I was trying to force a loving home environment on him last night. The little ingrate.
I figured that the first step in being a legit cat owner is to have photos of your little darlings, so I took the two above this morning. The gardener on the grounds here is a friendly little man who I’ve only communicated with in Arabic. The most complex thing I’ve said to him is “Your garden is very beautiful.” So as I was snapping a picture of feisty cat under a truck this morning, he came over and said in English, which I didn’t know he spoke, “You like pictures of small cats? I have CD with 800 pictures of small cats. I will bring for you.” I’m gonna develop a reputation here.
I’m waiting to see if my ownership sticks before I give names to them. I’m considering naming them after amateur rap artists.
