Sunday, March 25, 2012

Cat Adventures in Ukraine

I just realized I'd never posted this article, so I'm sharing it now. I wrote this 5/11/08 for the Peace Corps Newsletter. Hope you enjoy!

Cat Adventures in Ukraine

I am a cat person. Not to the extent that I strive to become a crazy cat lady, but were I to become one it would be a nice consolidation prize. I have been sans cat for the past several years, with only my roommates to fill this void. Not exactly them per se, but rather the pets that they had. One roommate had two cats, which worked marvelously until she went a bit mad and got rid of everything of value to her, including her friends, and got a rat. My next house was entirely without pets, but I'm sure would have continued the rat tradition because they were the filthiest pigs I'd ever lived with. To finish out the year of the rat, the final apartment I lived in had two rats in it, of the pet variety, and they were absolutely sweet and loveable, but still, not cats.

So after settling into my apartment in Zhytomyr, I decided it was high time to get a cat. I live in Alley-Cat Alley, so it occurred to me that I should abduct a cat off the street (more on that later), but I also realized that I love cats rather than kittens, and the transition from filthy dumpster to not-always filthy apartment might prove more difficult than it was worth. So I went into a pet store and asked the woman working there if she knew someone who had an older cat that needed a home. I think I may have literally said "you know someone with old cat not want? I want old cat. Not from street." Thankfully this message came through and I was hooked up with a gal who had a cat that needed a home.

Waiting for my cat proved to be an adventure. I had asked the woman if I needed a package for the cat and she said no, so I half expected to be greeted by a woman simply holding a cat. Or perhaps the cat would be in a box. Either way I was surprised when a young Ukrainian walked up to me holding a small babushka's bag. She opened it and big eyes peered up at me. I thanked her and rushed home to let the cat out of the bag.

Once out, I had to get food and litter, so I let the cat acclimate to my house while I fetched its supplies. The cat pulled a David Kot-erfield on me and disappeared itself. The first time I found it when I lifted up the seat of my couch and there was the cat. Then I simply couldn't find it. I nick-named the cat Waldo.

One morning, while preparing breakfast, a tuft of fur fell from the heavens. I looked up and there was my cat, now freaking out because I was in the same room with it. At this point in our relationship, my cat had only greeted me with hisses when approached, though otherwise completely silent, and this time was no different. As my refrigerator is, logically, in my hallway near the door, I left the kitchen to grab some breakfasty foods. I heard my cat jump down, and when I went back into the kitchen my cat was presented with a new dilemma―it was in the same room with me! The solution was, clearly, to run behind the gas stove.

I opened the windows a small bit to let fresh air in while cooking. I went back and forth between the living room and kitchen a few times, ate my food, shut the windows and went to work. When I got home I passed through Alley-Cat Alley and was shocked to see my cat hanging out with the pack of dumpster cats!

I put down my bags and ran after Waldo three-year-old style: hands straight in front of me saying "kitty kitty kitty." After chasing him around for several minutes, I caught him. I asked some random Ukrainian to help me carry my bags, as my arms were full of cat. I let the cat go in my house and he immediately ran into the kitchen and attempted to jump out the closed window. Aha! That was how he'd gotten out before. He was mewling up a storm and running around desperate to get out. After watching him spray my walls, I called the vet and made an appointment to get him fixed.. Waldo wouldn't stop mewling, but he would now let me pet him. It was amazing how much he'd changed in those five hours outside. He was like a whole new cat. A spraying, mewling cat, but a cat who would let me pet him and who would sit in my lap and who would eat all his food down in a wolfing manner. After wearing himself out with loud meows for several hours, Waldo went to sleep on the couch.

That's when my cat came out of hiding and stared at this cat and then at me as if to say "who the hell is that?"

I almost decided to get the big tom cat who happened to look exactly like my cat fixed. I imagined him telling his friends "Worst. Abduction. Ever. First she kidnapped me, then she cut off my balls." But really, he wore me down with all his loud mewling and stinky spraying and I let him out.

My cat has finally come out of hiding and she and I are getting along well. Either that or she has Stockholm Syndrome, but I'm okay with either scenario. I renamed her, partly because I realized she was a girl―after she went into heat, and partly because "Waldo" isn't the easiest name to say. Her new name is Мяу-Мяу (Meow-Meow).

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