I Cat Help Myself
While living in Évreux, I have been that nosy neighbour who stares through the window at the apartment across from me hoping to catch a small glimpse of a stranger's life. I don't care about what the neighbour is cooking or their love life or their outfit choices. Nope, what I would eagerly await from this French man's window was his tiny cat crawling out the window and endlessly jumping over rooftops, climbing into random restaurants, lounging lazily in the gutters...
Évreux was not an animal haven. I saw 3 cats during my whole 9 months here. Going from 3 cats at home to 3 cats ever was quite the adjustment. None of my French friends had animals and I was becoming very... desperate. My main animal contact was with my stuffed chicken Norbert who in my eyes started to become more and more life-like. Sometimes he seemed to want hugs, or watch a critically-acclaimed drama with me or just chill on the couch.
The verdict was in: I needed to see more animals-- and fast! Before Norbert started speaking to me.
While perhaps a little late into my 9 month venture, Croatia and its surrounding countries, were the cure I didn't know I needed. Yes, the Mediterranean sun helped, but it was the endless slew of cat cuddles that were the real remedy. There were cats around every corner, on benches, on balconies, in stores, in boxes, in windows, in restaurants...
The universe was apologizing to me for depriving me of animal touch for so long and was just overloading me with purrs and tail wisps. I gladly accepted this apology.
One of these is not like the others, I know. But he's just so cute!
The city of Kotor, Montenegro, was the ultimate cat lover's dream. In Polish, kot means cat and my last name is Kotasinska. Coincidence? I think probably. There were hundreds of cats roaming the streets and all the souvenir shops sold every cat trinket imaginable. I walked into this tiny store with very adorable cat postcards and the owner pointed to the postcard that I was about to buy and said, "That's me!" Of course it was. This simple Montenegrin woman would use any money she made for two important purposes: her family and the homeless cats of Kotor. Her walk home would consist of feeding the 15 cats by her store, the 30 cats along the path to her house, and the 10 cats she had at home.
"A few years ago, someone poisoned the cats. It was the worst day of my life," she told me with tears in her eyes.
Having had one of my beloved cats poisoned in the past as well, I could only imagine the pain and grief multiplied by tens.
In Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina, I found Bella's doppelgänger or maybe Bella living one of her other nine lives. I know, I know, cats all look similar so it's silly to see it as her, but her face was exactly the same. This cat could have walked into my house and I would have accepted it as Bella. I sat there, just crying and laughing and petting "Bosnian Bella." It was this very cathartic and moving moment. Whatever and whoever's cat this was, she gave me something I so desperately needed: the possibility to say goodbye.
My other cat (and sometimes dog) interactions weren't as emotional, but I think it is safe to say that the most often pronounced phrase of this trip was: Oh look! Another cat!
Lesson learned: There is no such thing as too many cats.