……but I can't, I have never and will never be able to get attached to animals that much. I grew up moving from one part of the globe to another, changing schools almost every year (even if we were in the same country or city, just coz I couldn't (or the doctors said) climb stairs and the school wouldn't move the classroom), and then I was a nomad from the very core of my heart all my teens and adult life (the only thing that would be a constant in my luggage would be my ovation(guitar) )….there is also the fact that (at least here in London) I had refused to have a pet for various reasons, the main and most common being that none, nobody, absolutely no person we know in this city will come look after an animal (well, they dont even come to look after us humans, that s why my mother travels 4000 km every time I have to go into hospital, though I am aproaching my 50th birthday…(isn't she nice, my mum?…awwwww).
I gave up on the issue a year ago, March 2006, around the time when my mum was getting ready to go back to my dad, after spending 3 months with us here coz of my (4th) operation. Somehow she (my mum) and a couple of neighbors convinced me that it would be a good idea for Sarita to have a pet, as it would give her sense of responsability. (I think the neighbors just wanted sarita to stop whinging and hanging round their's).
- I have just had a major surgery
- We didnt have any money to travel
- it s highly unlikely we would get any money to travel
- Sarita would start secundary school in a year (which would make travel more difficult)
- I couldnt stand her whinging either
I gave up (or in, whatever the correct in English). Not totally though, as she wanted a dog, and though we have comunal gardens and are on the ground floor, we still live in a flat, and I may not get attached or emotional about the animals, but neither will I be cruel.
So I said yes to a cat.
The fact that the Cat Protection Leage shop near us was closed for refurbishment, the near RSPCA (or whatever the letters that protect animals) was not near enough and I was not well enough to drive, the other 4 or 5 places we called did not have available animals, well… I did think of it as a warning at the time….but I love my child (and desperatly needed to have a rest of her insistence). We spoke to some people who dont keep a shop, but are like fosters to cats, they said there was nothing available (another warning), but sent a very (very!) nice lady to have a look at our place (and make themselves sure that Sarita wasn't Linda Blair…..maybe they had connections with Sarita's school's parents (who see me as the very incarnation of evil) ).
We gave the very (very!) nice lady tea n' biscuits, she left and we didnt hear from them for about two weeks, when I was just begining to forget about the whole thing…..and another (not so very nice) lady called to say that:
they have a cat, not a kitten, I'm afraid, but the people who have her have to give her away for some reason to do with the children and the council, but they thought it would be an ideal cat for your daughter……
which, if you aren't (as I'm not) an English mother tongue one, was, indeed, a bit confusing. But hey, I said, bring her on…….
She came, black in all her glory, Liara (they said it was something to do with the Lion King, then the vaccine thingy said Kiara, but we liked Liara best so we changed it with typex)
She followed me around (still does) even to the toilette, insists in sleeping at the feet of MY bed, demands that I move from wherever I am to carress her or play,and above all cries like a baby for us to open the balcony door, but refuses to go out completely, she wont even sit in the balcony unless we are in the kitchen with the lights on, which (even if you are a born and breed British and taugh with cold weather, unlike me) I m sure you ll understand is a bit…ermm…uncomfortable.
I usually call Sarita to come give her some attention (or food, which is what she normally would be whinging for (Liara, not Sarita) ), but last night it was just not on. We gave her more food,more treats, played, combed her, brushed her, played with the strings, the plastic mouse, nope. Still meawing, crying, whinging and, what got me, destroying the walls and door's paint by clawing.
Then I remember my sister in law's words (as she agreed to have Liara when we (by an unhuman effort) were able to go to SouthAmerica last Xmas, yeah, I hear you saying, but I was NOT wrong, as people dont do anything for nothing, I had to offer to leave her my (oh so beloved) car in exchange). PUSH her out, she said. (isnt that cruel? I said) You just give her a push out, she ll get the courage and go, then you close the door. When she s ready to come back, she will, she will cry at your door, you let her in. Pronto!!!!!
Well, easier said than done, I tell you.
But last night I was tired, and I could feel the poor cat was suffering inside. So I did.
She didnt come back untill tonight, 21:30 hs (9pm). She was gone for over 24 hs.
My upstairs neighbor, Cathy, great girl, she is, a bit intense and *moody* (if moody could be the word, but it takes a lot to explain this woman, will do some time) she has two cats (who never leave the flat), and she almost got the Inquisition team to get the fire burning to put me in the middle of it……
how come you went out? you are not crying!!!!
oh well, mumbled lil I, to myself, some of us have to shop to eat and things like that, ya know….
she captured (yes, there s no other word, I'm afraid) Sarita, balcony to balcony, for about half hour, explaining the things we should be doing in order to find Liara.
And she was not the only one. Other members of the Inquisition seemed to have re-inarnated in my neighbors, all moaning the loss of the poor lil cat.
Funny, you know.
How when Sarita and the three lil devils who came over for a sleepover birthday thingy desapeared into thin air for 20 minutes and went out shouting (I have a very loud contralto voice) for them, no one, not for one single minute, nobody came to coment or offer help……
Every time somethinglike this happens, it comes to my mind a line Julie Andrews says in The Princess Diary (well, what do you expect, I watch them too!!!)…. something about how the British dont give affection to their humans, but to their horses…(or in this case, cats)
I have seen some of these people (my neighbors, the undercover inquisitors) crying and going into really huge depression for stuff to do with their animals, but they rarely do anything with their kids, and most of the time have no idea where they (the kids, the human, I mean) are……
I know you cannot put everybody into a common label. But…anyway, cat is back, everyone's happy.Even me.