Confusion

Have you ever been so confused in your life, that you did not know what you feel? You are close to someone and yet far, you look at each other and hit, instead of kissing, because you are afraid to admit what is going on; you look at her and have no idea why this creature is so important to you, but you feel it in your guts, and ready to forgive all those bites, sudden jumps and hogging all the attention some times. I still won’t let her steal my treats or deprive me of my naps, but I like when she misses me, you know. Whenever I leave home, even for 5 mins, I come back to a yelling little monster who starts purring to Mom and jumping at me simultaneously. She can’t be alone at all. You know what warms my heart most of all, she is purring to Mom, but she switches to me instantly and chooses to go play with me, not stay and have some girl time with Mom.

I never could imagine I’d love someone except for Mom. But now, I’m afraid, I do. Having Kleo back with us made me realize how much I love this little ball of fur with a fire under her tail. Mom thinks Pixie chose her over Kleo and started following her around when she was not even a months old yet, but we all know who she chose to be with, right?

Still, I am confused about it, can’t grasp the moment when I turned from hating all the other cats to loving one.

When you are facing a hurricane, there is no way back

Mom says that when she took me in her arms for the first time, she was almost paralyzed with fear and uncertainty. No vets in the town, no vetmeds, no proper cat food, no knowledge on how to raise a newly born kitten without a cat-mother…

To adopt such a tiny creature in those conditions was to face a hurricane. You cannot give up and turn back without losing the precious thing that popped up in your life on the Christmas eve as if a real miracle. To go out to a safer place, you need to go straight to the heart of the hurricane and pierce it through without blinking even once.

Every time when she thought there was no way of getting out of it; that there was nothing more she could do for me; that I was not going to survive…every time she was ready to put her hands down, she would look at me, see once again how much I enjoyed life, how I was happy playing with a tiny dust spec swishing in the air or with a simple paper ball. She would clench her teeth and tiny fists, and tell me: you are the Super Boy and I am the Super Mom, and we CAN make it!

Even when she didn’t know what to do next to make it happen…

Whatever hurricane you might be facing now, never let yourself think that there is something you can’t do. The mighty Super lives in every one of us. You just need to wake him or her up!

The treachery of my father

My biological father’s name is Boris. I know that, because he was our neighbor and the king of the whole neighborhood. All the male-cats around were afraid of him and all the female-cats were his wives. He’d walk out in the evening and come back in the morning with the definite signs of fighting all over his body. My Mom helped his Human to attend to him a few times when he had some serious wounds, possibly after fighting with giant Cambodian rats.

He is a big black cat with a very loud and demanding Meow. And though he is not a catman, I have several distinctive features of him like the almost bold areas near my ears.

Mom was always carefully avoiding him during our walks, but one day he followed us staying invisible under the cars that were parked in our yard. And than he jumped out at me. Mom managed to catch me and lift me up in her hands, but I got so scared that I fought her, leaving deep scratches on her arms, somehow got out of my harness and ran home in panic.

Boris followed me and attacked me several times on the way. Mom was trying to keep up, but, you know, she’s only human. It took her 2 minutes to reach our door and save me. She took me in her arms and noticed that though Boris was an experienced fighter and I am yet a 6 months kitten, he had a scratch across his face and was walking at a small distance while I was guarding our door.

Mom told Boris to get out and hurried to attend to my wounds. She cleaned only one of three of my wounds when I turned my anger and frustration on her. I was roaring and hissing and didn’t let her touch me for three days. Mom says I couldn’t sleep properly, because Boris was experienced enough to tear both of my sides and the neck. And one time she even saw me cry like a human, with tears. Only after three days of keeping Mom in terror I came to her so she could treat me.
Everything healed quickly and in the end the biggest damaged was made to my trust to the world. Since that day I hate all other cats and as the experience show, animals in general. Some are my prey, others – dangerous beasts. Only humans I consider equals and sometimes even let them try to befriend me.

The appearance of the catman

Here’s the present from my friend, Kristina, who drew this amazing comics with me as the great catman and my Mom as the creative mouse. Hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.

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I love my blanket

Yes-yes, your eyes are not fooling you: I love my blanket! First of all, it is soft, second – it is warm, and third – it is TASTY!

It is so cool to take it down from the bed and attack it, imagining it is my enemy or a bird (oh, little birdies…); or bite and chew it, drawing out the sweetest threads; or drag it around the apartment as if it is my prey; or to tear it with my claws and kick it with my legs and it won’t scream, like my Mom in such cases, who would squeak or scream in a crazy voice: Help me, help me, a wolverine attacked me!.. Crazy lady.

When I was a kid, I had a pink blanket and a yellow soft towel in my disposal. Now I am much richer. I have two jackets – they are my traveling covers. Mom puts them into my box and me inside, but I would always get out of it to see everything better. And when we are not raveling, I can take them whenever I want to chew a little, well, sometimes a lot.

Moreover, I am the owner of my personal small jackets that I wear on the street: the thin one, the warm one and the one I hate. Mom says, it’s the best one – it was knitted for me. It covers my back totally and even has a hood to hide my ears from the cold, but I hate it! It’s too thick and I can’t move freely in it. So every time I have to wear it, I lose half of the pleasure of any adventure we run into.

And I have a new blanket, it’s same as my old pink one, but green. I use it as a hammock mostly. It covers my armchair and I can hide under it, if I want some privacy or lay on it. It gives me the feeling that Mom is holding me from all the sides simultaneously. I love it almost as much as my read and white shawl.

Mom would say that it is her shawl, of course. She always claims the best things I have. But it chose me! It lays everywhere I want to sleep, honestly! Lately it is following me around and covering me in my sleep by its own will. We have our favorite spot on a windowsill, where we sleep together and my shawl is giving me warmth and coziness I love so much. Mom even started to get jealous of it; she says I love it more than her: I sleep with my shawl day and night, and I don’t even chew it.

Don’t worry Mom, blankets come and go, apartments and the view behind the window are changing, even countries we stay in are different, but the one thing is matters – we stay together. And, all right – all right, I might come to sleep beside you tonight.

The land of sun, the land of rain, the land of the red dust_Part 2

The worst thing for my Mom and me in Cambodia was doctors. First of all, human doctors would not treat me for some reason. Second: it is very difficult to find a real vet doctor there. A couple of times we went to Phnom Penh to the French vet clinic. Eight hours by bus one way for no answers to what was going on, or an improper treatment that lead to severe consequences.

There were no doctors in Siam Reap at that time I was born. We found one experienced American vet doctor with no clinic later, but he left after several months. Then there was a real nice vet nurse from Australia. We found her when we were already leaving. I really hope that situation has changed and there are more vet doctors in Cambodia now. But if you are travelling with your pet or planning to adopt a cat or a dog there, be prepared and search the net beforehand to have a help, shall you need it, on time.

And the most fascinating thing for me was that I was a star in Cambodia. Decide for yourself: everyone smiles at me, everyone tries to touch me, everyone is so eager to know everything about me and asking where I came from. It became even worse when I finally got a passport.

For the first several times Mom had to carry me through the Thai border illegally. I was too small and too sick to have a passport, and I needed to be treated by a good doctor in a proper hospital. So we had to go to Thailand and she felt herself being a smuggler. But when I finally got a vet passport, crossing a border became a huge show for everyone around.

Thai customs officers were shocked every time, even in Suvarnabhumi, when we were leaving South-East Asia for good, airport staff was asking their managers many times to check if they were doing everything right. Here, on the border with Cambodia they have never seen a cat with a passport before. They were hesitantly smiling, asking my name, checking and rechecking my passport, but their reaction was very mild in comparison with Cambodian customs officers’ reaction.

The first time I entered Cambodia legally, twenty or thirty people came to see me. Imagine serious men, policemen in the uniform crowded around my mom and passing my passport around, asking to see me and to touch me.

We were so tired, I was still sick and Mom gave them a permission to see me from several steps away only. More and more people were coming and Mom hid me in my traveling bag and had to stand guard for some policemen still tried to touch me and see me closer. They were excited as if children, seeing a cat for the first time.

The thing is, not every human in Cambodia can afford having a passport, and there was a cat in front of them who had it. I believe I still have a fan club there: many serious men scratching their bellies and telling their friends that they have met a cat with a real passport.

It is very important mentioning one more thing considering my star status in the land of the red dust, which is everywhere, by the way. It’s my tail. I have a very special tail. Yes-yes.

My tail is a crotchet in a shape of a hook. It looks exactly like a Royal cats’ tails from an old Siamese legend that tells about a princess and her cat. One day the princess went to swim in the lake and her cat followed her, as always. And when the beautiful girl undressed herself, she took off her jewelry as well, and not to lose it, she put it on her cat’s tail and made a knot out of it. Thai people believe that since that day all Royal Siamese cats had such tails. It means that I am a descendant of a lost cat-prince or princess of Siam, living in Cambodia in disguise.

Don’t ever believe any other explanation. No-no-no. Only this one is a true reason, why I have such a tail. Have no doubt!

Living in Cambodia was an adventure. We had our ups and downs, of course. But you know what? Sometimes I miss it, and when it happens, I hunt geckos in my dreams. And what are your dreams about?