Choices

Everyone knows what a difficult choice is. It is a choice which you don’t want to see; a choice you think you can’t handle; a choice you don’t want to make.
If you finally take a deep breath and a step forward, you might find yourself in different situations:

– relief;

– regret;

– being unsure;

– trying to persuade yourself you took the right path on the crossroads you just left.

But no matter how you feel, making this choice changes you. Is it a good thing? Is it a bad thing? For you to decide. Are you ready to choose?

Inner silence.

How often do you speak with your inner voice? Once in a while? Every day? All the time? Mine just won’t shut up! There is no privacy in my head. It asks me cunning questions, it shows me what I don’t want to see about myself, it soothes me when I upset or makes me even more upset, and it laughs like a crazy evil professor trying to enslave the world. You would say it is just mine subconscious so I am simply talking to myself. Well, one might agree, but if you try and peep inside my head, you would never again ponder over the question if subconscious is a part of one self: it isn’t, I promise.

I was very irritated with my inner voice lately. It was annoying more than usual, so a couple of days ago I wished it to go away for the 3588th time. I don’t know what was different that time, but the voice actually left me alone. No, ALONE. For the whole day there was not a though, not a word, not a move inside my head. It was scary and fascinating at the same time. I felt like I was outside, pushed out on to my skin: sounds were louder, colors brighter, people’s faces clearer. The world looked as if someone took a plastic from the monitor or photo shopped the picture.

My inner castle was gone, there were no inner space at all. What did you say? I am crazy? Totally, man, totally! Did you expect anything else from a baby dragon?

Thankfully, after sleeping off and watching funny series with Mom for the whole weekend, I am getting back to normal. Anything unusual in your life?

Let’s talk about love

Let’s talk about love, shall we? No, not that love that you are thinking about now, not romantic love or the way a son loves his mother, or even how a big brother loves his lil sis. No, no, no! I am talking about passion, about what drives you, what makes you jump out of the warm bed in the morning and dance through the day. You are getting the feeling, right? Are you nodding and having a smile on your face now? For Mom it is me (of course, have no doubts about that!), for Pixie…can you guess? Right! Me as well, with a little playing around and occasional purring like a broken purring machine.

For me it is exploring the world and birds! Or maybe birds even come first. I LOOOVE them, I swear. I sit still for them, I wag my tail for them, I sing for them! But they never answer to my feelings. They tease me and mock me, can you believe that? Who in his right mind is able to reject me? I reckon they are just stupid (not you Pico and Poco @jones_fids, not you!). Otherwise there is no reasonable exploration why they would not come and play with me as I ask them. I will be gentle, I promise! I like the process of hunting, I need the drive and the action. I won’t eat them, because I am a fan of healthy eating and I eat only high quality boiled chicken breast (cut before cooked!).

Twice I had a bird in my paws already and twice I let it go. Catch and release is a cool game when everyone stays safe, but Baby Dragon quenches his thirst of hunting.

Tell me what your passion is!?

Silver Mouse – the curse breaker.

 

I am not sure if I am bragging too early, but it seems like Pixie is a little fairy after all. Those who know me for a while, remember that I was not be touched by anyone. Last Summer I risked my life running away from Mom on the street when I thought it was not her who touched me. I ripped my harness off, tore Mom’s hands severely and ran home crossing two roads…
When someone would approach me with a kid, I would start shaking or roaring. If someone other than Mom would touch me, I could have hit with my paw or bite through the hand…
Now, having a stable life, Mom’s friend Kris living with us for almost a year now and Kleo with babies for over 4 months changed me, made me calmer and more confident. But having Pixie the Smiling kitten (Pixie Pie, Pixie the Sweet Paw, Pixie Crazy Pants, Pixie the Silver Mouse and so on and so forth) changed me so much Mom can barely recognize me.
I am old Mr. Grumpy, of course, and I am still a crazy Dragon baby, but I am much sweeter to Mom, my health is more stable and the most surprising thing is, I LOVE people now. Yes, yes, you heard me right. Every man/woman/kid I see outside of my apartment is my friend. I ran to a human to greet him and I smell him and bump him with my head and rub on his legs. Nothing will make me happier if a neighbor lets me in to his home to explore…Happy days like this I cherish. Last week Mom was shocked when a lady that came to see someone in our block lifted me up thinking I am running away from Mom and guess what I did? I purred to her!!! Well, to make a long story short, look at the pics. This is me being held by Mom’s friend Kris, who has been living with us for 8 months before I let her touch me for the first time.

Now she is even aloud to pet me and hold me from time to time. I sat on her lap recently so she could rub my face…Mom never thought it was possible. Now she is daring to dream that Pixie and I will become cuddle buddies one day!

Do you agree that Pixie has magic in her?

Doubts

How often are you filled with doubts? I am fighting them all the time, but they are still taking over. Yesterday Pixie decided to run up Mom’s back for no reason. Mom jumped up, yelling…she says she is in pain and asked me to explain to Pixie that she shouldn’t do it again. I watched her carefully, came closer and froze hesitantly. Then I reached Mom’s foot and bit her so she wouldn’t put her parental responsibility on me! I am a fun brother to Pixie and not her second parent!

Tonight I was in doubts again when Mom woke up at night and caressed me gently…I was considering going back too sleep, but then I bit and bunny hopped Mom’s hand and demanded her to take me out at 2 a.m. Yep! I felt like having a walk! Mom’s problems that she had to wake up at 6 and go to work… her first and most important job is to take care of me, right? But she didn’t go out. She tried to hide under the pillow from me…One and a half hour later I gave up and left her alone. But I had some fun in the process 😸😸😸 why being a cat if you don’t have a little fun every day?)

The Diamond Boy

Mom gave me many different names: Angry Crocodile, Tiny, Jerboa, Meerkat, Dragonozaur, a thorn, the crooked tail, the black gold, sweet boy, good boy, smart boy, mr. Grumpy, wet/dirty paws, little monkey, treasure, Dracocat, sharp-clawed paws, tiny psyco, son…but my Grandparents call me blackie, Ros or a diamond boy to highlight how much all the family invested in me so I could survive.
When Mom adopted me, we lived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. The closest vet doctor was in the capital of the Country of the Red Dust – Siam Reap. It was 8 hours by bus in which pets were not allowed. Mom had to hide me all the way or argue with the driver so he’d let us in. All those trips and vet expenses and the drugs that my grandparents were sending us monthly (most of what I needed could not be found in Cambodia or even Thailand)…  No one really counted how much everything cost, well, maybe my granddad did. But my humans has to create a whole medicine supply chain for me: my grandparents had to find a person to take them from Russia to Thailand and Mom asked her former colleagues to take them to Cambodia or went there to pick them herself.
Imagine the disappointment of my grandparents finally met their diamond boy and had no chance to even touch me.

The talent to enjoy small things

Mom says I have many talents. I am not sure they all truly exist though as she has a wild imagination. She also loves me too much and sees more than I am sometimes. Well, it happens that pretty often after a while what she sees in me becomes real. Mom’s magic, I suppose.

She says that it is my talent to enjoy small things that inspires her the most. I came into her life when she almost forgot how it is to be happy with no big reasons for that and how to smile and go crazy over something barely visible.

When I was a kitten, I could have a fit of joy over a speck of dust or a tiny piece of paper. I still have them from time to time, but not every day as before. I might got spoiled a bit, I admit, but the way I enjoy life, the way I grasp every bit of it, how I ravish it hasn’t changed.

Mom says that when almost everyone around her told her she did her best but it is time to stop fighting for me, that it is time to let me go and that nature knows its way and other similar things that were supposed to make her feel better about not being able to save me, it was me who taught her not to give up. When she thought for a moment it is out of her power to help me and there is nothing else she is able to do, she looked at me and saw how much I loved living, how happy I was, how I was not feeling down even being very sick, she understood she could never give up on me.

Mom learned many things because of me: how to pray, how to ask strangers for help, how to be a vet nurse and how to not sleep for months. She even went out of her law-abiding ways and became a smuggler, a cat smuggler. She took me to Thailand and back to Cambodia several times while I was too small and too sick to have a vet passport. She had to find other, less traditional ways to get me across the border so I could get proper medical help and survive.

I reckon, this talent saved my life by reminding Mom that she is the most stubborn person in the World and can get through a concrete wall if she is motivated enough.

I am the pills spitting out Master!

I am getting sick rather often. My vet doctor (who is impossibly great, by the way) misses us when we don’t call him for more than a month. He calls me Skotiniaka, which means that I am the trouble manufacturer. He treats us like some kind of relatives already. And I consider him my God father, because his advise literary saved me when I was very little and he is saving my Mom’s nerves a lot since we moved to Novosibirsk.
So as a result of having such crazy health and crazy character I am not well and have to take different pills pretty often (I know I am repeating myself))).

Moreover, I have to take a double dose of vitamins every day, because if I don’t I start eating cloths to cover their insufficiency and that is dangerous…

Having more than 2 years of practice, I became a pill spitting out Master. Mom is really good at giving me medicine, so I have to create new and new ways to cheat her all the time.
I hide pills under my tongue, or between my teeth and the cheek, I even learned how to spit it out when it is being put directly in my throat… I sit still, take the capsule, wait until Mom stops rubbing my throat for me to swallow, listen to the kind words she is saying about how good I am and then spit it out.
I can go like this several times in a row. Mom tries to persuade me that taking medicine or vitamins right away will be easier for everyone, so I don’t have to go through this unpleasant event several times. But she does not understand that it became a sport to me and I am going on a record every time!

Geckos’ tails

As you know, I am from Cambodia. And Cambodia is the land of sweet little lizards, geckos. I love them. No, I LOOOVE them… Mom says that it is the wrong kind of love, because I love to hunt them. But I even dream about them sometimes, what is it if not love?))

They were not only outside and on the walls of our apartment buildings hunting countless types of insects in the evening, but they were also inside our place. I used to sing my hunting song and drive Mom crazy trying to get these tiny fast as hell creatures. Sometimes I was faster or cleverer and managed to catch them.

Mom tried to save my prey every time and most of days I was left with franticly jerking gecko’s tail in my mouth. Oh, sweet sugary tails. These were happy times! I would play with my trophy for hours!)))

Now that we are far from Asia, I miss geckos  so much. Anyway, we found the solution! There are some plain thin hairbands that I steal from Mom here and there. One day my favorite hairband snapped and turned into a gecko’s tail! Almost as real and sweet as original ones.

Now you can find me in a bathtub with this improvised toy or hiding it in some secret places all over the apartment (I have many secret places where I hide my toys from Mom). And there is no happier kitty in the whole world, when I imagine myself a conqueror of the geckos’ king, leaving me his long squishy tail as a sign of my superiority as a hunter.

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.