Well, she is not really my cat. She belongs to everyone. I am actually her human, and I aspire to think that she is my cat. Perhaps I feel justified in thinking that because she waits for me to come home and runs after my car and then says hi. Perhaps it matters that she brings me mice and rats. It makes me think she likes me. In any case, I have aspirations to claim her mine. She claims me every time it is time for food.... 

So, anyways, the cat belonged to the kids downstairs when she was a kitten. The kids kept her inside. I cannot even imagine what that was like... When she became older, they started letting her out alone. One day, the kids stuck her in the mailbox with the firecrackers. She somehow escaped and ran upstairs to Brian. Brian had the top floor corner apartment with a little of porch (called lanai here) and there was bench to hide under. Brian never gave the cat back to the kids. She stayed outdoors and had shelter and food on Brian's porch. 

When I showed up on the scene, some years later, to rent the apartment in the building, my landlady cheerfully walzed out of the dirty apartment, saying that she surfed that morning, had no time to clean, and had to catch the flight back home asap, so here are the keys, there is the cat, BYE! I said WHAT CAT??? there was never any talk about a cat when I rented this place! The landlady said: well, this cat, there she is, and she knows she is not supposed to be inside, just look at her! I looked at the cat bewildered. I didn't want any cat or anything to take care of, for that matter! But it was too late, the woman was gone. The cat was still there, though, she confidently walked all over my apartment and checked me and everything out. I could see her thinking: oh, I got your number, no problem! But no time to think about her, I had to clean, the woman left a mess. 

I wasn't going to keep any cat. I worked a lot, far away, left home early and came back late. I couldn't imagine anyone depending on me to feed them regularly. The cat was basically a stray that went around and got fed by various people. She did a great job of catching mice around our building, Brian said. He said I should feed her. He very diplomatically tried to explain to me that the cat's feeding dish is in front of my apartment because the people before me used to feed her, and how important it is to feed her well because there are lots of mice and we really do need the cat. Otherwise, I could have a mouse in my house, and would I like that? The cat would take care of it...  I was thinking, heck, if you want no mice, why don't YOU feed the cat? 

Is spending 5$ per month too much for Brian? 

Brian is a tall, very tanned, mid-age surfer dude who spends a lot of time drinking beer and smoking pot and surfing. His eyes tell it, they are watered light blue. He works - sometimes :) says his landlord, doing odd jobs.  In his previous life he was married and sold cars. Then he quit. Seems like he quit all of it after his wife left. Brian is extremely intelligent and sharp and I enjoy talking with him, and wonder why on earth is he living the way he is. He can be considered even handsome, tall, lanky guy who talks sharp. If he left the beer etc. and became more responsible, he'd be quite a remarkable man.  Call me judgmental, but I don't find anything remarkable about anyone tipsy, and that memory colors my entire impression about the person.  

Well, there was some food left over, and I fed the cat. I cleaned the apartment. I looked at the cat again. 

Of course I WAS going to feed the cat - she looked too skinny and obviously needed help. I could not just let her down. She pushed my caretaking button.

She was dirty too, because she hang around the parking lot and rubbed on cars. And very very sneaky. Behaving like a street gang teenager. She repeatedly tried sneaking up into my bedroom, which was off limits (she didn't shed much, so living room was ok). We had arguments about it, esp. when she laid in my bed... and left her nice fur all over my sheets. 

I fed her out of duty. As I was feeding her, I was kinda grossed out - the cat was dirty, skinny, her eyes were not quite pretty, ... 

Also, she'd go around looking for food, whoever could feed her. She'd disappear for a long time, and maybe stop by once in a while. Later I learned that the lady upstairs was feeding her. They were military, so when they moved away, the cat came back to me, looking kinda smitten, something like "oh well too bad I have to depend on you again..." 

With food, the cat fluffed up and I tried to pet her. But.

I caught myself thinking all those ugly thoughts - yuck, look how skinny you are! how dirty you are! how ugly eyes you have! - which certainly didn't match what I was telling her while I was trying to pet her. I didn't respect her. Petting her was just so that I would experience some pleasure. The complaints were just because something was causing my inconvenience. There was nothing about HER. Did she like to be petted, how, when. In short, I was selfish jerk. No wonder the cat wouldn't let me pet her.

So, I tried harder, to really feel some genuine admiration for the cat. And to talk to her and try to pet her that way. I would try to really give her my full attention and to focus on her. Lo and behold, she'd come closer. 

In time, that cat became gorgeous. Her fur got so shiny, eyes clear, and the cat became plump, heavy, muscled beauty. A miniature tiger. She was stripped orange and definitely a huntress. How she sharpens her claws on the stump outside, how she hisses, what big rats she brings me. Yet a girl, so feminine, so gentle, with such a sweet "mew" and gentle gentle coming closer. 

Gosh! I could not believe my eyes. The cat also stayed indoors to sleep sometimes, and came to hang out often when I was home. So her fur became clean and fluffy and she was a pleasure to look at. She learned to wait for me to come home at night to feed her. In the morning, she goes to the neighbor who gets up at 4am, much earlier than me :)  In the evening, it is fun watching this orange bundle blaze over the parking lot, then climb on the roof and the windshield to say hi. Sometimes we play games with the radio antenna. My car is full of cat prints. 

And my bathtub too. She learned that she could drink the water out of the bathtub faucet, and even train me to open the faucet for her - lo and behold, the fresh cool water. So if you see a cat in my tub, don't be surprised.

You will also see her perched in a flower pot on the balcony on the top floor, and also perched on my book cases inside. Anything perching. She also likes to help me take the laundry to the laundry line and the compost to the compost pile. Then she plays hide and seek around the building corners and in the grass. She rolls in dirt too. 

A few years ago I went on a vacation for 15 days and had such a good time and didn't want to come back home. I didn't even think of the cat. When I came home, she was *really* angry and would not even talk to me... She just gave me dirty looks. 

In our relationship, there are rules:

1. When she greets me on the parking lot, no petting. My hands smell and are sweaty and dirty, plus she is too paranoid and busy looking where the other cats are, the competition. Other cats would come to eat her food, that's why we keep the food indoors. 

2. When she comes to my apartment to eat, she avoids being petted, but when she starts eating, then I can do whatever I want to her. That seems like cheating to me! because it is obvious it is just her mind. So I insist on petting her before feeding, forcing her into volunteering herself. Sometimes it goes better than other times. She definitely has a reflex, as soon as she sees a hand coming toward her to pet her, she tries to bite. Also, when you try to grab her. Exactly what children would try to do, I am sure that's how the kids tortured her back then.

Yeah, I understand, but then I get impatient. Here is this beautiful fuzzy fluffy coat and I cannot pet her? I just go for it. Sometimes I just grab her to pet her, and she barely complains. I discovered that I can get away with that when she was naughty and snuck into my bed. Then I'd grab her and throw her out. She is usually feisty and tries to bite and scratch, but when she is scolded, she just hangs lose like a limp stuffed toy. Also, another time she was cornered by a dog on the porch, so I just came and grabbed her and took her away, and she was just a limp little fuzzy on my arm. 

So I grab her, put her on my lap, and pet her. When she starts purring, she tries to run away. So I learned to try to pet her so gently, just barely touching the fur. She likes that and stays a second longer, then jumps away. Something in her brain says that she is not supposed to enjoy being petted. Although she purrs and closes her eyes, something old rules her. 

I tell her that it is only me who should pet her, she should not get used to it and let some strangers pet her. I am safe. I hope she gets it.

It is amazing to watch her run around guys. When I had a wannabe boyfriend over for a few days, he totally bought her by feeding her immediately and a lot, and giving her a lot of attention, and she just rubbed all over his legs. He called her "Burning Bush" and thought she was incredibly amusing and funny, and she bought it, hook and sinker. What a sold soul, as we say in Serbian. I couldn't believe it that she was sooo friendly with him, in no time. She sometimes rubs on the clothes of my male massage clients. Oh what a girl... 

Sometimes I feel used, seems to me she comes only for food, and when it is convenient to her. Oh well. I suppose she has to survive. She does not have the notion that she belongs to me. Belonging is something she never learned. 

These days it takes my breath away to watch her. She is so incredibly graceful, the curve of the back, the little tiny paws, the stripy tail, the circles on her soles. It is winter now and her fur is thick and fluffy. Her eyes are so yellow. Sometimes they look beautiful, and sometimes almost scary, "there is something there," my mom claims. I say that she is probably some alien on some kind of duty on earth. I sometimes feel like she is my higher-up. When I try to pet her and she turns and gives me this dirty yet proud look, like "what are you thinking you are doing, kid?" We have less of those looks now, she understands what I am trying to do, and even remembers to not react when she sees the hand coming towards her head to pet her on the head, and stays and gives the head to be petted. I still cannot even touch her when she is laying down. 

Maybe maybe one day she will even stay on my lap. 

Sometimes she lapses. If the building is not good to her, e.g. too noisy, she runs away. Recently she was more-less gone for a month, and turned into a street cat again, paranoid, dirty, and skinny, no petting, and very little recognition of me. I called that "relapse." I had to look for her on the streets and call her back. For many days. I didn't realize she wasn't thinking she was mine. I definitely was thinking she was mine and missed her company very much. Well, luckily, the noisy people downstairs left and it became quiet again and she came back permanently. 

This is something that perhaps all foster parents must go through, as we tame our adopted children and teach them about love, belonging, commitment and responsibility. I say "responsibility" because I think the cat understood that I was missing her and that her role in my life was important, and she answered my call for her to come back home. It was funny, at first she was picky: She'd show up on time for dinner and then you could see her thinking: ok, I won't eat here unless there is nothing else, these guys want to pet me. So she'd go over to check if there was something in neighbors dish. If there was, she wouldn't come back to my dish. Oh, the greedy cat... I was disappointed but then let it go. She has to survive and she hasn't learned to trust that I will be there always. 

She is learning. I am learning too. To be truly committed to her.