Expatria · Istanbul · Zuzu Irwin

The BakirKats

One of Steve’s friends visited this week and it was really nice to talk with someone who isn’t a cat, because, let’s just face it, I am seriously becoming known as the Cat Lady around here. At certain times during the day, there are up to a dozen cats on our balcony, and even more hanging around it.

Domino.
Domino.

My new friend is Domino. He’s my Number 2 boy after Tommy, because Tommy will always be my Number 1. Even if I ever (Goddes forbid) have a boy child, Tommy will still be my Number 1 and I can add that to the growing list of reasons to not have children. Domino, as his name may suggest, is black on one side and white on the other. He is soooo soft and in fact I think that he spent his last life as a dog and hasn’t really gotten into being a cat yet. He is the neediest cat that God ever made and requires constant attention. I would give it to him, but because he’s a long-hair kitty, I am super-duper allergic to him and so I can only take him for a little while at a time. He’s become my little Centurion. Wherever I am in the house, he is sitting at a corresponding window, peeking in at me and talking away. What a little darling-face, puppycat. I wish I could cuddle with him all the time. I so wish he was a dog.

Izzy2
Izzy

Izzy, otherwise known as Iggy The Cracked Out Crazy Cat, was just in heat and so everyone was insane around here. Everyone being the male cats and me. I was out on the porch with a broom trying to get them off her, until I realized that she actually was enjoying the attention and the whole gang-rape scenario didn’t really seem to be bothering her all that much. So, I swallowed my distaste and left them to it. Male cats are real pigs. Like men are pigs. Is everything male a pig? A few exceptions of course, but for the most part: Males=pigs.

Saucy and Duckie.
Saucy and Duckie.

Saucy, the mama cat mother of Duckie and the late Friskie, disappeared to have her babies and I think we even saw one of her kitties yesterday. One of its eyes had been torn out (these BakirKats are fucking vicious!) but it seemed to be getting around okay enough. Duckie has been missing for days and I don’t know if she has joined her sister in The Spirit Realm. Not seeing a cat for a while seems to mean the cat is gone because they know I feed them on a regular basis and usually come for at least a meal a day. Poor Duckie. I never got to pet her.

Mr Toad
Mr Toad

Mr. Toad was back during the IzzFest and he looked so sad. He was my arch-enemy and the violent deflowerer of Duckie all those months ago. Lord, how I hated that cat. But now, he is about half the size he used to be and his eyes are full of misery. If he were human he would have full-blown AIDS. Oh, Mr. Toad. It broke my heart seeing him like that, and I felt so bad for shouting at him and being so mean to him and calling him such horrible names. These cats are really teaching me a lot about not judging and simply being kind on a regular and somewhat equal basis.

My little sweet Tommy.
My little sweet Tommy.

And even Domino. Domino tries to fight with Tommy when I’m there and Domino doesn’t like one little bit that I pet Tommy too. Domino wants to be my only boy and boy is he mean to Tommy! I had to smack Domino for trying to claw Tommy, and then they both ran off. I got so worried that Domino just wouldn’t come back because he was mad, but here’s another reason he’s a puppy disguised as a cat: he is incredibly forgiving and seems to love me absolutely unconditionally. What a wonderful quality in a cat. He’s my new best friend here. And I miss him when he doesn’t visit. As I write this he is cleaning himself outside. Big green eyes looking in at me occasionally to see what I’m doing. Little sweetheart.

So many of the cats won’t let me pet them, but while Steve’s friend was visiting I realized how much those cats trust me even though they won’t let me near enough to touch. When Kevin was outside, the cats would stay far, far away and if they had to pass him they would do so super quickly. With me, they won’t let me pet them but they walk about me very nonchalantly. They won’t come near Steve, but they will come right up to me when it’s feeding time. I think it’s because I talk to them constantly. And I feed them. And I’m always around.

Still, it is really nice to realize what a special relationship I have with these amazing cats, my little balcony Centurions. They make each day special and each and every one of them has such a unique and well-defined personality that I doubt any humans ever had the opportunity to get to know. So, for the moment, I embrace being the Catwoman of Bakirkoy’s cat population and I am indeed curious about which will be the next one I get to pet. I am hoping for Jack Pumpkinhead, a beautiful and reserved orange-striped cat, but I think I’m closer to Van Helsing, a blue-eyed gray and white cat with a tail as fluffy as a feather duster. Nope, not much going on over here, but at least I am surrounded by beautiful blessed creatures. That is indeed a good thing.

Thoughts?

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