A Tale of Two Cats

I often wonder why people fear dying alone? I think it's because each of our lives is a story, and every story needs a proper ending. Having someone witness our death is equivalent to having someone witness our life. They may have not been there from the start of the show, but they caught the ending. How would you feel if nobody gets to read the final chapter of the novel that was your life?

This is why I feel the urge to tell the story of Kiss-Kiss, the second cat that I mentioned in the previous entry. I cannot tell this story without involving the story of my first cat -Pip.

For Pip the story begins way back when I was just a kid in third grade. It was a rainy tropical night in the house where I grew up. There was a stray kitten mewing at our front door. My parents told me to shoo it away. I tried that. It just came back. So like any other kid, I asked my parents if we could just keep it. They said no, take it to the next block and let it bother someone else. Ten minutes after I got back home, the kitten was back at our front door.

I tried convincing my parents to keep the kitty, they were having none of it, they said to take it out further. I got on my bicycle, rode seven blocks away figuring that would be far enough and dropped off the kitten on the kerb and rode back. It took a half hour for the kitten to find its way back to our front door. By this time my parents were wondering if I had even been taking the kitty past our front gate, maybe I had been lying. They told me sternly to get rid of the kitten for real.

I should say that maybe things did not happen this way. I was just a kid, and over the years maybe I remember it to be more dramatic than it really was. One last time I rode my bike carrying the kitten. I wondered how far I should ride. I also thought about how much trouble I would get into if the kitten manages to find its way back again. There was no way I could prove I rode all this way, I could just as easily been circling the block out of sight.

And then I came upon the creek next to the road. It was all swollen with the constant rain. Without thinking I tossed the kitten into the water. I couldn't stay to watch what I had done. I got on my bike and rode hard all the way home with the rain pelting my face. With each grind of the pedal I was willing my heart to turn into a black stone so that I wouldn't have to deal with this sick feeling. I carried this guilt for many years.

Ten years ago, I came in late to work (as usual) and as I walked past, Dilvo popped his head above the cubicle partition and asked me a question. "Would you like a kitten?" I turned to him and said, "Sure." All the while wondering why I said that without thinking. He explained that a stray had found its way into his garage and that he couldn't keep it because they already have, get this: a dog, a bird, and a goldfish; all of which are incompatible with a cat. I ended up taking the kitten home, and naming him Pip (I was reading Dickens' Great Expectations at the time).

It wasn't easy. My wife, being a dog person, was against it. Our rental conditions specifically prohibit keeping an animal in the unit. Not to mention I would have no idea how to raise and care for one. I argued to my wife that we've been married 10 years and that I should be entitled to one executive decision every decade, and I had made my decision, we're having this kitten.

Upon later reflection I realised that by saving Pip, I am able to let go of the guilt I have carried all these years. My karma books are now in balance, cats killed: 1 vs cats saved: 1. All was good for about two months, and then I ran over a cat on the way to work (it dashed across a busy road in peak hour I swear). Cats killed: 2 vs cats saved: 1. God dammit.

Last May, one of the salsa dancers had to move house and couldn't take his cat with him. DJ Mambo G at the club appealed to all the salsa dancers for anyone who could adopt this cat. I told Mambo G that if no one else steps forward, I would take the cat, you know, to re-balance my karma. No one else stepped forward.

When I picked up the cat, the previous owner explained that he's had her for ten years, that would make her the same age as Pip. They named her Kiss-Kiss because that was how they would summon her by making kissing sounds. She was at least partially deaf, and she was mostly an outdoor cat. She came to be his cat when she was a kitten that followed him home.

Pip is an unusually affectionate cat. He prefers to be in in the room of the house where he can be in the company of people. When he wakes up alone in a room, he would stretch, let out a long meow and start searching where everyone else was. He loved being stroked and touched.

By contrast Kiss-Kiss was almost wild. Imagine being a cat with deficient hearing: things always end up startling you. So I make sure she sees me first before I approach her. Even then if I tried to touch her, she would hiss and bare her fangs. She wouldn't allow more than a couple of strokes before she would snarl and bite your hand. At first I allowed for it due to being stressed in new surroundings and around new people.

Kiss-Kiss and Pip would fight. Often. Cats hate change, and now both cats had just had their happy equillibrium upset. Kiss-Kiss exudes a street-tough air that just screams "Don't fuck with me, I'll CUT you." During their fights, things got broken and Pip would walk off with nothing settled. She was fierce, but he was bigger. I had hoped that one of them would establish dominance and learn to share the territory with the other. In the end, Kiss-Kiss, staked out the balcony as her space. She spent the entire winter huddled up in her wicker basket. Pip would come out periodically just to harass her.

Five weeks ago I received notice that my lease was being terminated on account of the unit having been sold to a new owner. I had to find somewhere else to live. This was going to be a problem, not many places would accept tenants with animals. There was no question that I would keep Pip no matter what happened. I was seriously considering giving up Kiss-Kiss for adoption. I hated the idea of abandoning her just like her previous owner. But she wasn't an easy cat to love, and even now six months later I still refer to her as the other cat.

She must have sensed she was unwanted. One morning three weeks ago, I was in the kitchen washing up over the sink, when Kiss-Kiss jumped on to the balcony railing. She often does this so I wasn't concerned. Next thing I knew was a ball of orange fur hitting the flyscreen on the kitchen window. For some unknown reason she leapt for the kitchen window, even though there was nowhere to land. She fell one storey onto the driveway below. I got out on the balcony to have a closer look expecting her to be injured. She just looked up at me and then walked away. I didn't see her again for two weeks.

Problem solved. When I rescued Kiss-Kiss last May, I took on responsibility for this animal. Even when things weren't working out, I couldn't abandon her. She was my burden. When she ran away, I thought myself absolved of that responsibility. I hadn't abandoned her, she had abandoned me.

Yesterday everyone in the apartment complex got a note in their letterbox from one of our neighbours. In big bold letters it asked DO YOU RECOGNISE THIS CAT? It had a picture of Kiss-Kiss and the note explained that Kiss-Kiss had made their yard its home. They already have a cat so they don't really want another one. They hope the owner would claim it or they will try to find it a new home or surrender it to the pound. I had to laugh, because I remember reading once that the difference between cats and dogs is that people choose their dogs, while cats choose their people.

Now I'm thinking, I was that owner, I took on that responsibility last May. But then she ran away. Now someone else has rescued her and assumed that burden. Of course I can try to rescue her again and resume that responsibility. But what kind of life could I offer her? Cooped up indoors (to hide from my new landlord) and being constantly harassed by Pip.

I wanted to call the neighbours, not to take the cat back, but to tell them the true story of Kiss-Kiss and wish them luck finding a new owner. Thinking more about it, that's probably a bad idea. I'd likely just get saddled with her again, and I'm only one week away from moving out of the complex anyway. Some part of me feels this is a cowardly thing to do, but another part of me is saying, maybe talking to the neighbours is even more cowardly. It would be an attempt to ease my guilt yet not face up to the duty of ownership. Like committing the crime and expecting a pardon.

No. This is probably as close as I will ever get to understanding women who abandon unwanted infants. At the moment, Kiss-Kiss is probably having the best time of her life since I first met her. She is outdoors and free, and she gets fed by the neighbours. Granted there is a risk she'll end up in the pound, however, I know that if I say nothing and do nothing, she still has a chance of finding a new life with a new owner and a new name. She no longer has to be this twice-abandoned cat with a hearing and attitude problem named Kiss-Kiss because its original owners couldn't think of something better.

This is why I tell this story, so that no matter what happens, the story of Kiss-Kiss can get an ending. It's up to the reader to choose if it's tragic (pound) or hopeful (adoption). In my head I hear lines from the final scene of Gone with the Wind.

Rhett Butler: "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

Scarlett O'hara: "... tomorrow is another day."

A Few Events

1. The second cat jumps off the balcony ... and lands on its feet. She gave me one last look and walked off down the driveway.

I felt relieved. Now it was no longer my responsibility, it was its choice to jump. Then I felt pangs of guilt. I accepted responsibility for this animal when I first rescued it last May. But then again what sort of life had it led since in my care? It was always in conflict with my other cat, Pip, who reasonably felt like his territory was being violated by this newcomer.

I didn't see her again for another two weeks, until one night while having a late night cigarette on the balcony, she walked along the driveway, mouthed a silent meow in my direction and went on her way. I thought she looked healthy, and somehow happier. Not bad considering I haven't been responsible for feeding her for a couple of weeks. I let go of the guilt and reassured myself it was better this way. I didn't abandon her, she abandoned me.

When I thought more of it, I don't blame her. For what had I to offer? A lifetime, albeit longer, in captivity. With another cat that hates her guts.

2. I was Turned Down for a Job at a Fancy Restaurant

One of my contacts had given me a lead on a restaurant on Wooloomooloo wharf. I gave the head chef, Robert, my resume and asked for a trial shift. A trial shift is like a chef's version of a second interview. This is when the head chef can make a decision on whether you can do the job as you claim, as well as how you can fit in with his kitchen team. He also gets free labour. However, I also get an idea if I even want to work in that kitchen.

I came in for the shift singing Journey's Don't Stop Believing in my head (been watching the pilot episode of Glee). At the end of the shift Robert spoke to me outside of the kitchen and told me that he needed someone with stronger skills than I currently have. I thanked him for giving me a chance, and asked him what he thinks I should do for my next interview/trial. He said I should maybe try for a smaller restaurant, reading between the lines, I think he meant I should try for something little less fancy.

I was initially disappointed, in fact I was on the verge of despair. I started to doubt myself and wondered if I am really cut out for this sort of work. Then I stepped back from the brink, I thought about how I really worked on that shift. I did everything as best as I can. There was nothing that I wished I could do over. Heck, I was proud of what I did on that shift. Even if it wasn't enough to get the job. Back off Despair! You'll not get me today.


3. I Remembered how to have Fun at a Halloween Pool Party

It was a Michael Jackson themed party, I decided to go for the easiest costume option to go as a Jackson 5 Michael, all I needed was a bow tie and an afro wig. When I got to the party they split us into 6 teams, each team was given a room in the house and a Michael Jackson song to perform to in half an hour. It was like a mini So You Think You Can Dance team challenge. Did I mention that the party was hosted and attended by [mostly] friends I have met dancing?

I was never a big MJ fan myself so I had no interest in anything much more than the moonwalk.
However, I was in a team with a couple of dancers that I truly respect so I was prepared to just follow their lead in the choreography. To my surprise they listened to my suggestions and even took them on board. It was validation that I had some dancing credibility, even if I did struggle with learning new moves. We won. No prize, just bragging rights.

Later in the evening I was sweaty dancing in my shirt vest and bow tie I decided I needed to cool down. No one else has yet gone into the pool, likely because it was a rather cool 18C at this time of the night. But I was hot, and I have had a few drinks. I stripped off down to my trunks, and got myself pushed into the water. First!

After that a half a dozen others joined in. They were just waiting for someone silly enough to start it. I had a great time.