Cats On Strings and Other Things

I found this lost among other files. Don’t think I posted it.

3/18

Yesterday Elena, a fellow PCV, invited me over to her house for a little fiesta of sorts, a time of carbo loading really, featuring a feast of Dominican espaguetis with bread and beer. Somewhat nutritionally one sided you might think? It could have been a much heavier affair with the added accompaniment of viveres. I for one am glad they were left out.

I was surprised to see Elena with a cat in her house, as I knew she had some bad luck keeping a little kitty alive once. This cat had some years on him but not too many, a joven cat if you will, with a very pretty and puffy orange coat. Unlike my cat he pawed at my tender bare feet, rather then tearing the skin off them or pulling his favorite bite and hold hard and slowly let off as I whack him move. I think he is still mad at me from calling him Shakira. This was all before he hit puberty and I realized she was really a him. And I thought she could be my surrogate Columbian/belly-dancing girlfriend.

Elena said that this cat was aprestado from the Pastor and his wife, and that they do this often. A cat on loan. I never really thought that could be done but it interested me. I should have done this instead of mistakenly thinking I would enjoy the company and responsibility of taking care of a girlfriend that scratches and bites and draws blood and doesn’t even dance bachata, much less belly dance. And then doesn’t even turn out to be a girl in the first place.

But what really caught my attention was that this cat was on a string and tied to the metal bars of a security door at Elena’s side entrance. It wasn’t really that the cat was on a string, because I have gotten used to seeing that here and like many other things has become part of the whole Dominican deal. It´s that this was at Elena’s house, a fellow PCV, and there were other Americans present. And rather then questioning Elena on the cats being on a string, we proceeded to drag the cat through the house by its leash string, its front paws spread eagle and its nails gripping futilely at the hard cement floor.

Now after 18 or so months here, I thought, this is just another example of our cultural adaptation and why I love the whole Peace Corps experience. Because now I can see cats on strings, or mini vans…I mean motorcycles, five deep and carrying random household utilities or construction materials through the street and not even look twice. And I can chalk it up to just part of our common human package deal and get on with working and living here. Which is nice.