Japanese for snow

I love anniversaries and birthdays. Their meaning transcends human social constructions: they come in intervals of 365 days, the number of days the earth takes to draw a full circle (or eclipse) around the sun and arrive at the same relative spot in space from which it began. So birthdays, anniversaries and other annual events are good opportunities to look back at how things were when the earth’s position was last the same. Just as the circle comes to its closure (and a new one opens every single day).

This time last year, when the summer seemed close and all, something very important happened: a young white felis catus, a.k.a kitten, came into my life. It was a sunny morning. I was walking down the street close to Mousiko Kafeneio, not at all aware of what was about to happen, when I saw Oliva sitting there holding a kitten. It was grey and white. She told me she got it from a veterinarian right next to the post office. I went to have a look and there they were: two white kittens, the one with splashes of black (or was it black with splashes of white?) Myrsini, the vet, told me that someone’s cat had given birth and they’d brought the kittens to her so that she could give them away. Me and Mario did take both away, not sure yet who and if we’d keep them. My initial thought was actually to keep both kitties but Mario offered to adopt one. We paraded up Ermou street, big new expensive cat toilet in hand and kitties on shoulder all the way to Mario’s place. It didn’t take long for Mario to realise that having a kitten around that generally doesn’t know where the right place to poop is was a bit too much. Eventually Mordread tried to keep the B&W one. He couldn’t keep her either though so he returned her to the vet. I, however, had fallen in love with the white one before we had even stepped out of the vet’s.

I remember once telling Ines that if I ever had a white cat, I’d call her Yuki, which is japanese for snow. I’ll admit that I did sit and think about the white kitty’s name for a while but it didn’t take me more than a few hours to naturally start calling the little bright-coloured storm Yuki. I will never forget our first night together. I prepared a nice little bed for her lining my fruit basket with a red shirt and a dirty pair of jeans and invited her to join me into the world of dreams. Though reluctantly, she stepped into the comfy-looking bowl and eventually called it a night. The next morning I woke up and saw her curled up and sleeping peacefully.

All wasn’t well, however. When I said that kittens don’t know where to poop, I really meant it. Yuki was barely 3 months old when I first got her and she couldn’t properly climb into her toilet so a lot of the time she’d just poo and piss wherever. I remember somehow “feeling” that she’d gotta go and I’d promptly pick her up and put her in the toilet. When she would indeed relieve herself, I felt genuinely happy and satisfied with myself. But the first week had a lot of waking up in the middle of the night because Yuki would have a nice case of diarroea under my bed. It seems that during the first week diarroea was the only thing that would come out of her little feline bottom. Thankfully that soon stopped.

One of the hardest decisions I had to take in September when I had her neutered. I was anxious she’d leave and get ran over or something. Or she may have had litters of kitties every few months. I still question my decision when I think that I’ll never see Yuki-kittens or my cat will never have sex, but I guess this is human thinking in the end.

What I really like about my cat is that she’s genuinely good. And I mean good as in lawful good. She’ll never attack out of spite or hate. On the contrary she loves attacking just for fun or when she wants to play. I also love it when she comes and sits in my lap whenever I’m on the computer. She loves climbing to the highest (and often silliest) spot in the apartment. She’s perfect with strangers. When she was little, I often used to leave her care to friends when I was away from home for whatever reason. She’s also grown used to travelling which is always good. Most funnily of all, my little feline lacks any grace cats are generally known for. As we often say with Alex, Yuki has all the elegance of a happy-go-lucky dog. As they say, pets become like their owners…

In the end, I really love my cat. Even one year later and now she’s no longer a kitten but a proud full grown  adult cat, even against all odds and expectations from others and even myself that my lifestyle wouldn’t allow taking care of an animal, I can see us maturing together.

My first day with Yuki was May 6th 2008.

Author: Cubilone

This is me. Or so I believe. View all posts by Cubilone