Finally a Post About The Cat I Found

So May 9th, I found a cat.  I was walking up a street, saw a cat at the end, and, of course, at that moment nothing else mattered.  She trotted behind someone’s gate and I kneeled down and said hello.   She stared off stoically for a moment, and then came over purring.  She flopped on the ground, happily rolling on hand, letting me pet her with a growing mutual and spontaneous love.

(the stoic glance)

(the flop)

And then I had the urge to feed her.  For obvious reasons, I had no cat food on me, and in my head I played through trying to bring a loose stray cat into a bodega to find some food.  This did not play out well.  I also had no clue where there was a bodega nearby.

So I jumped to Plan…let’s say E because it definitely was too weird to be normal alternative:  I called an über.

I had a friend in the neighborhood, called to ask if I could bring over a cat I found, the angel-friend said yes (I sure can pick ‘em) and I called an über.  In a few minutes the car pulled up.  At that point I’d wrapped the cat up in my scarf and had her in my arms.

I opened the door and said “hi, I'm going to get into your car with this cat that I found.”  The guy nobly said “alright” and so that happened.  The cat was happy.  Still purring, she crawled up into the front seat with the driver and he gave her a little pat.  She came back to the backseat with me, and at a red light I had the driver take a photo of us.

*Please note here, how absurd this all is.*

(waiting on the car)

(red light photo)

I got to my friend’s place, and he had a cat as well.  The two cats did not like each other.  So we sectioned off a room with loose doors for my little one, and we two humans took turns making sure the doors stayed closed.

I borrowed some cat food for my little stray, and she ate two days worth of food immediately.  She slurped up water like a college student after their last final, and then proceeded to fall asleep.  On my face.  If I wasn’t already in love, it definitely happened at that moment.

Now humans are 60% water.  Usually.  In that moment, however, I was at least 80% pure stress.  My roommate had made it clear before I moved in that he didn’t want cats.  I follow Beth Stern and the Kitten Lady on Instagram, daily reminders of my desire to give all of my heart and soul to little baby creatures who need love as much as they need food.  I’d asked about fostering kittens, he’d said no, and so I knew this was not going to be a reality at my current home….and that telling him I suddenly had a cat would probably not bode well.  I like to think I am a good human, an honest one at least, and so I called him.

           “Hello?”

           “Hi….how are you…?”

           “Fine.  What’s up?”

           “I, uh, found a cat.  And I’d like to give her a place to sleep tonight.”

           “Oh.”

           “I know.  I just want to make sure she’s safe and fed.  What if I kept her in my room?”

           “I really don’t want to live with cats.”

           “I know.  And I respect that, that’s why I’m not fostering any, and haven’t sought any out….I just happened to find this one.  Could I just let her sleep in my room tonight, just until I can figure out where to put her?”

           “She can stay for a week.”

Now for all of you following this saga, please not how generous this was of him.  Consider something at work that you don’t enjoy.  Imagine someone asking you to do it and you caving and saying you will.  Now imagine agreeing to this task for a week.  And finally, imagine this grumbly project has intruded into your home.

So yes, this was very, very kind of him.

A generosity that I have no doubt taken advantage of, because spoiler alert: I STILL HAVE THIS CAT.  But let’s jump back into the day I found her:

It’s time to mention the hardest part emotionally of finding this beautiful creature: she had little boobs.  She was or was going to be a mama.  I have not owned a cat before, nor have I seen a pregnant one.  I couldn’t tell if she had already given birth, or if there were still babies inside her.  All the Google searches replied that it could be either.  That if she was pregnant, she could be nesting, showing her love to me in exchange for a safe place to give birth.

I let her sleep for a little bit and then took her to the vet.  I had tried searching for clinics, etc. any cheap alternative, but at this point it was almost 4pm, and everything was beginning to close.  Not to mention I didn’t want to move her too far, as I knew that day was going to entail (pun intended) going to the vet, going from Brooklyn (where I found her) back to Queens (my home), getting a leash for her, and finally taking her on that leash to find the kittens, if, in fact, there were any.

At this point I was likely made of 90% stress.

I made the appointment for the vet and while waiting, got her a leash, food, litter and let her pick out her first toy.  (It was a partially pealed banana, and she likes to boop her nose between the banana and the peel.  In case it needs to be stated: she is the cutest thing in the whole world; a title she shares with Spencer, my hermit crab.)

(us in the pet store)

The vet said she was equally healthy and sweet.  She couldn’t hear my cat’s heartbeat because she wouldn’t stop purring.  I also couldn’t leave when it was time to go because the cat wouldn’t stop holding my hand.  And between these two events, the vet said the cat already had her babies, likely within the week.

(at the vet)

I let the cat sleep a bit more (she clearly hadn’t been able to sleep without one eye open for awhile), and then I plopped her back into the cat carrier I’d borrowed to search for her babies.  I took the subway back to where I’d found her, and then walked her on her leash.  

This had been the dream: she immediately takes off with me following, and leads me to her kittens.

This was the reality: she fell asleep under a tree.

I spent about an hour trying to follow her around, but she was mostly just exploring.  So I picked her up and tried to follow the direction that her eyes darted; I walked in a circle for a about twenty minutes.  This lead to the third option, “if I were a cat, where would I have my babies.”  I searched for another half hour.  Listening, looking, waking up the cat and moving her to the next spot.

I couldn’t find them. 

They were gone.

At this point, I named the cat.  I’d had a feeling that her name should begin with an E, and she seems to respond to S and Z sounds.  I’d played with Elenor, Eliza, etc. but nothing seemed to stick until this moment.  There is a Greek myth where two people were absolutely in love until fate cruelly took the wife to the Underworld after being bitten by a snake.  The man, heartbroken, goes to the Underworld and pleads to have his wife back.  He gets his wish — so long as he doesn’t turn around to see her on their walk back to the Earth.  And just before they get there….he turns around and loses her forever.

Walking with this cat in search of these little loves, the heartfelt futility, the heartbreak and unfortunate twist of fate — I named her Eurydice, after the wife in the story.  This way, even though the kittens were gone, I couldn’t say her name without there being some homage to them, a reminder of their loss and the unconditional love that will stay with them in the Underworld.

The best case scenario is that someone used Eurydice for breeding.  They took her babies and then plopped her outside to find me.  She’s unbelievably docile and loving, and really doesn’t like being outdoors anymore; it could be she was already domesticated.  Medium case scenario, perhaps she’d gone out for food and someone had found her kittens and took them in.  Worst case scenario they were unhealthy when they were born and didn’t survive.  My cat is little, and no older than 18 months.  She's a toddler that had her own offspring.  There’s a chance they weren’t healthy.  The fur around her little boobs was dry, she clearly hadn’t been nursing.  And lastly, no matter your age, specie, biological sex: if you are responsible for another living being, that is your whole world; and she showed no protective mama behaviors.  She wasn’t searching, wasn't nervous, wasn’t threatened in anyway.  She was on her own and just happened to have boobs.

I felt guilt, but the vet had assured me that it was good that I was saving *her.*  That there was one life I was helping keep safe, healthy and loved.

And fast forward back to today, this kitten is SO loved.  That first day I’d spend more on her than I had on food for myself over two weeks.  She had premium food and litter, and no matter how many toys I bring her, her favorite toy is me.  She sleeps on my bed while I sleep, standing guard and protecting me from the outside world.  She follows me back and forth across my room when I get ready for work, and has gotten increasingly smart on how to keep me from leaving (I’ll write a post on this soon).  She visits when I’m in the bathroom, and unless I put her on my lap, she stretch up against the sink, and then backbend in my direction, reaching her paw up towards my face.  When I bow my head at her, she’ll nuzzle her head up against mine.

Guys, this cat is beautiful, purrs constantly, and is so loving.  I’ll write more soon on how she’s changed my life, but I’ll end on this…. My roommate two days ago asked how she was doing in the heat (just fine).  We haven’t spoken much about the fact that I STILL have her, and this was such a kind gesture of caring about her.  Sooooo I might be able to keep her?  And in the meantime, I could not be more in love with Eurydice.

(the day I found her)

(her this week)

(us in love)

Snowballs of Positivity and Love

Now I must say, for as difficult as some of these challenges are, life is pretty spectacular.

At work, I’m on a giant and lovely staff.  It’s strange to think of my former stores, where I knew everyone maybe a little too well.  Now there are about half a dozen that I know well enough to see outside of work, a couple hundred who know my name, and always many more that I’ve yet to get to know.

When I first started here, I decided to take pictures of those that I meet and type their names under them; like digital flashcards to practice.

And maybe it’s the quirkiness of the concept, or the implied effort, or maybe it’s just me, but essentially everyone who’s photo I took says hello each time they see me, and on a daily basis I have more people genuinely asking how I am than I think I’ve encountered in my lifetime.   It’s incredible, especially considering that I’ve been here for just four months.

This week alone, two coworkers overheard me telling different stories, both involving someone who was less than kind to me.  One of the coworkers stopped in his tracks, turned to me, and, with a fierce and protective tone of voice, demanded to know whom it was.  The other coworker, after quietly overhearing the other tale, approached me later, carefully asking what had happened; saying he couldn’t imagine someone being rude to me.  (And for the record, both stories had nothing to do with work.)

Honestly, it’s baffling and assuring.  I don’t see myself as kindly as they see me.  I was raised to be selfish and entitled; I had to teach myself morality, realizing on my own that when you are kind to the world around you, it tends to smile back. Thus my life’s goal became to have a positive impact on the world around me; and it’s still awing that I am on some level achieving that goal.  I still remember who I was before I began to grow into myself, and so it’s hard to believe that I am actually that good, and yet I genuinely do feel loved as a response for loving those around me. 

And how can I not when two coworkers, ones I haven’t yet gotten to know very well, nevertheless care enough to pause their lives to make sure I’m alright.

It’s moments like this that made me believe in humanity and the good we all have inside of us.  I can’t wait to do more with this; especially with the likely difficult times that lie ahead.

some happy humans in Central Park

Off to a Strange Start

So I'm currently headed to work with a 99° temperature....and I wish I could say this was the first time I've gone to work with a fever in the *month* in which I've been working in New York.....but it's not. I think this is the third time I've been sick.... though I can't say for certain because the phlegm tends to run together.  Or rather clump together...grossly.

And I want to work, I don't want to spend the day in bed; I just don't want to be sick. But when I live and work in a Petri dish of germs and take a medicine everyday that kills my white blood cells... well I guess we could say I'm the viruses' ideal woman.

Sooooo I'm in a feverish haze as I head to work. I sat on the floor of the subway this morning, not really feeling like explaining how my body works to complete strangers. The other day a woman asked if I'd give up my seat and I said "I have arthritis so I'm not the best person to ask."  And I didn't look for her reaction, but the idea of her judging me or thinking I'm lying because like everything I have going on in my body, you can't *see* that I'm sick....eh it's just my own personal nightmare.

So I sat on the floor. A few stops in, a woman ended up offering her seat, cleverly and kindly doing it just before the subway stop where previously paralyzed doors planed to open up and consume me.

And it was cute. She dropped her newspaper, I dropped a "we missed you" post office slip, neither of us noticing our own clumsiness and instead meeting in a squat as we both bent down to pick up the others' fallen leaf.

In the mind of a great circus man, he'd think that we shared a "spectacular dance."

So I plan on jitterbugging and hopscotching through this feverish day, hoping to one day have the immunity of Hygieia.

Some Changes from the Past Week

Hello lovely readers,

So I've been a bit quiet the last week and I'll walk you through why.

First of all I have been surrounded so constantly by such magnificent loves that I've seldom had time to reflect, and honestly no need to. I've been happy and I know exactly why: I'm back where I belong and where I need to be. 

And thus the second reason for my silence: now that I know what I want.....what do I do next?  How do get on that plane to a city where I've only ever struggled?  Especially now that I know that it's contributing to my sadness, which often materializes in physical pain...

Someone asked me in my dream scenario, what would I do next, and the honest answer is to not leave.... To become a little stray cat traveling around Philly until I find myself a home. 

But I have to go back. I have a lease to break, things to pack, a belovéd mattress and books to somehow transport.... But as a best friend said, I shouldn't let that be the reason not to do what I want. 

As far as art goes, I have a vlog in the works and am going to be making my own work as it is....might as well be surrounded by loves as I do so. This isn't the end of my art, it's just migrating to a more fruitful location. And I visited New York again and to the idea of moving there instead, I will Monty Python style laugh in your face...no no. Not for me. 

I like being in a city, but one that's a little more centrally located, and I also have more of a family in Philly. When I went to tea with one of my friends I happily exclaimed that they brought two pens with our checks as I hate when they only bring one; I then dropped my pen. 

I realized that I was only complaining about the scarcity of pens because I've been going out so often with friends, something I rarely got to do on LA. I don't like working so hard not to be alone, and no doubt the walkability makes meeting up all the easier. Plus people on this coast are used to grabbing a drink after work together, or catching up during lunch, and that's exactly what I want. 

And so I sit warmly in my silence. Knowing WHAT I want, and now working on the HOW.