I spoke to my almost 84 year old mother today about getting a shelter cat. She lives in what I now view as barbaric circumstances: a safe, beige, upper-middles-class retirement village in Australia. During lockdown she has seen almost no one, hears almost nothing and rations television to news bulletins and favorite series to fill her evenings. She has been widowed for more than 10 years. She was reluctant about the cat. It wouldn't be fair to take on a cat so late in my life. And so I suggested getting an old, ugly cat - one that would probably be euthanized in Australia to make way for a prettier, younger and more-adoptable kitten. She's unsure.
Pondering her social isolation and this social distancing nightmare we are collectively creating over tea this morning, I was disturbed by Mr Gin (short for Ginger) who needed a tummy rub.
He's been a rock to me today. He was sleeping on my favourite chair when I got up this morning, and lazed on top of the accounting in a basket on my desk for more than 6 hours while I sorted (or tried to) an account issue on Hive.
He's my buddy when I don't have anyone else. At times he might be a little haughty when the dining offering isn't quite up to his delicate palate, but at least he NEVER gives me the teenage eyeroll. He speaks Thai, English and Dutch and doesn't care if I swear. He may, arguably, be the most consistent male figure in my life. š
He was sunning himself nearby when I was upset after a fractious text-a-thon that made me (again!) realize everything that is wrong with texting as a form of communication. Unlike everyone else today, he kindly didn't tell me I wasn't listening or was too opinionated and he just WAS. A Zen Cat Being. Listening, with one ear ever so slightly twitching as I cursed. Perfect no judgement.
Quarantine has been pretty rough on me, as an entrepreneurial solo mom in Thailand with suddenly NO income, mounting bills and some health issues which mandate reducing stress immediately. But I'm aware it's been even rougher on my 15 year old daughter. Life as a whole feels tenuous and uncertain for her, more than it ever did for us as teenagers.
She responds by holing up in her room for marathon kpop and kdrama sessions with the cats. Yes, we actually have 3.5 cats.
Mr Mox (short for Moxa) is feisty, fun and besotted with my daughter. Thai people think black cats are very bad luck and so they chase them away or poison them. He knows he scored when he sashayed in to our house and demanded to be adopted.
There's a very subtle 'thing" that goes on between the cats, where they constantly quibble amongst themselves to be nearest to whomever they perceive to be the Boss Cat. It's my nickname at home. Boss Cat. š¤£
Miss Cinny (short for Cinnamon) is a bit disabled, having had her tail and hips injured when she was jammed in a door as a kitten. So no matter how adorable, affectionate and supportive our boys are on hot, testy, niggly quarantine days, she manages to steal the show when she meows softly to say she's hungry or needs help getting down from the table or someone's motorbike.
If she's resting in the hand basin to keep cool, we tend to just use the other bathroom rather than disturb her. š¤£
In this challenging covid quarantine time, our cats have doubled as touch therapists, counselors, confidantes, best friends and filled the hole in the bed where my lover should be.
The other 0.5 cat? Yes, we have half a cat. We call him MD. Short for Moxa's Dad (cos we think he probably is). He is the mangiest, most beaten up old black tom cat you've ever seen. He arrived at the back of our garden 6 months after we adopted young Mr Mox. He steals food. Marks territory. Fights loudly at 3am. Yowls because he can. Is TERRIFIED of people. And somehow slowly, over this quarantine time with us being quiet and still and constant, he has become brave enough to approach the back door around food time. Yesterday he let me get within a foot of him without running, when I gently eased toward him with the food bowl. I am aspiring to gently pat him when he's ready to go there.
Cats are the heroes of covid quarantine for many people. I think as we try to move forward into a world suspicious of touch and infection risk, cats will be even MORE important to so many people who live alone, who don't touch enough and who feel unheard.
Caturday. I'm smiling as I think of the way these sensitive, psychic Beings cause rhythm and punctuation to our long home-detention day. I'm pondering an aging white western world where 65% of people over the age of 65 live alone. I'm wondering how to encourage my mom to accept the unequivocal love and acceptance of a shelter cat.
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