Here Kitty, Kitty

September 7, 2006 - 5:32 PM by Allison

What is it about cats? It is well-known that they are an obsession among bloggers, and Israeli bloggers are no exception, even those who live in Tel Aviv. Now I used to love cats, but Tel Aviv is the place which where I lost my affection for the species, as stray cats basically rule the entire city, jump out at you from behind corners and inside garbage bins when you least expect it.

Yael’s love for cats and inability to pass a stray without adopting it is famous. Recently, she wrote about her encounter with a fellow feli-phile:

Coming out of a side entrance from Dizengoff Center I saw a cluster of maybe 18 cats all milling around on the little strip of green with some of them being quite verbal. Seeing large quantities of street cats milling around is, sadly, not a very unusual sight here. But these cats were gathered together for a reason. And these cats did not have the guant, haunted and hunted look of the average street cat. I didn’t notice at first the balding man in his early 50s with the bicycle and small set of newspapers in front basket. The cats were certainly noticing and, as more streaked across the street to join the throng I took a glance back to my left. From a large plastic trashbag this man was pulling out big handfuls of long strips of cooked meat and carefully laying them in piles on equally carefully laid out newspaper on the ground. The cats were in ecstacy. I had to go back several steps in order to tell this mensch thank you for his good deed.

We had a short and pleasant exchange as he continued to unfold sheets of newsprint and lay them carefully on the ground before depositing more piles of food. “I do this every evening,” he told me, “I feed these and three other groups. Every evening and good quality food, they are getting schnitzel.” He was obviously proud of what he was doing and also obviously very happy that someone noticed and bothered to thank him for his good deed. It turns out that he works in a butcher shop and every evening he brings home the meat that, while still good, is past the point where it can legally be put out for customers the next day. He takes it home, cooks it, puts it in a large plastic bag, gathers up the day’s newspapers he’s finished reading and heads out to feed the cats. He started with just feeding a mother and her kittens close to his home but soon the other strays in the neighborhood started arriving. Then he started noticing the other needy cats on his route to work and day by day their plight bothered him more and more as he saw how “his little group” were thriving…so now he has his cat route.

Almost at the same moment that Yael posted her story, Stephanie put up her own cat tale (cat tail?) on her blog. This one was pretty heart-warming — the background of the story is that while she was in the U.S. over the summer, her dog had passed away, her apartment had been robbed, and her cat ran away.

Years ago while reading Buddhist theory, I came across a passage stating that the signs and symbols we need in life to know which paths to follow or understand a direction our lives will ultimately take are before us each day. It is our job to become conscious in order to recognize and receive them.

Yesterday in the stairwell I met a neighbor who asked if we had found our cat; She disappeared during a July apartment robbery while we were abroad. I said no and joked that wherever she is, I hope she’s happy, well-fed and living out her wild side. Although I recently stopped going to the backyard to call her each day, I heeded an internal prodding spurred by the talk with our neighbor. I went to the yard and beckoned to an empty neighboring yard, generally a populated cat hangout. Nada. Well that’s that, I concluded. No more. Turning to leave, a chill went up my spine. Across the way, peering intently from behind the bushes underneath our 3rd story window was Kalikee, our cat.

Kalikee! I called in surprise and she bolted, stopping 20-feet away. Staring blankly. Giving no indication that she recognized me. Glued to her spot. Ready to spring if I moved too quickly. It looked like Kalikee but was this her? I continued to beckon. She stared blankly. Slowly I backed towards the apartment entrance, maintaining eye contact while calling my 4-year-old. They share a special bond. Perhaps he could coax her. Walk back here slowly; She’s here I summoned. He came to the yard. Still no response from Kalikee. Call her. Gently. Say her name. And so he did. Over and over. Calling her to come to him.

And finally, she responded. She talked to him, meowing in response to his calls. And then she approached and rubbed up against him fiercely. It took some effort to get her back upstairs. She was frightened, seems to have sustained an injury in her hind quarters and initially was wild. I was scratched and bitten. Rapha was happy but very cautious. She has clearly been through something and is changed. So have we. We’re all re-adjusting. Rapha’s staying home from school to be with her today. He’s thrilled to have his playmate back. I’m grateful.

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