Earlier this week, I was walking in the hallway of my apartment building when I ran into another American friend who excitedly announced, “There’s a cat downstairs!” I was immediately intrigued, and I quickly rushed down the steps to see the four-legged critter who was kind enough to visit our apartment complex.
I like cats a lot, but I wouldn’t describe myself as a “cat person,” because my affinity for dogs and cats is pretty much equal. I greatly miss my three elderly pets – my cat, Samantha, and my dogs, Scooter and Hannah. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they’ll still be alive when I get home, because they’re all over 14 years old. Scooter, in particular, is showing many signs of old age, with his legs frequently giving out under his own body weight. I love to watch him gradually fall to floor as he eats from his dog bowl.
Getting back to my story, I went down the stairs and saw a group of teachers crowded around a small cat of undetermined gender, which they had decided to call “Big Poppa” (we later deduced that the cat was female, but kept the name anyway).
The cat was exceedingly friendly. As soon as I called her over to me, she walked in my direction, put both of her paws on my knee, and began to sniff my face. I was reluctant to pet her at first, fearful of all the germs she had accumulated while roaming outdoors. But I couldn’t resist her big green eyes and little white paws, so I scratched her a little bit behind the ears.
My friends made a bed for Big Poppa out of a cardboard box and some old sweaters and placed it in the hallway. I went and checked the box before going to sleep that night. Sure enough, Big Poppa was there, curled up in a little ball, asleep like a baby.
The next morning, I went downstairs to check on Big Poppa. I’ll admit that I felt a twinge of sadness when I saw that her cardboard bed was empty. I went back up to my room and continued my routine as usual.
But later that day, she came back again! I decided to do a good deed and feed her some tuna. The tuna had been sent to me in a care package from the USA, but I didn’t mind sharing it in this case. After she was done eating, my friend Monica let Big Poppa roam around her apartment for a while. She appeared to be more interested in the people than the new surroundings, and she was eager to be held by everyone in the room. I think she eventually ended up falling asleep while clutching tightly onto Monica’s leg. It seemed that her loveable personality was slowly eclipsing our misgivings about her cleanliness.
Two days later, something terrible happened. Amanda, a teacher who lives two floors below me, got a call from one of the school officials, who asked her if she was keeping a pet cat. Pets are technically not allowed in our building, so the question posed a major dilemma. Amanda was honest, telling the school official how the cat had wandered into our apartment building and that we had fed it and played with it, but that it was not staying in anyone’s room.
That afternoon, Big Poppa disappeared. She didn’t come around looking for food, company, or a cardboard bed to sleep in. We were all concerned, wondering what could have happened as a result of Amanda’s conversation. Had the maintenance crew “taken care of the problem”? Had Big Poppa been sent to a shelter? Had she been picked up and abandoned in some remote location? Having heard of the collection and poor treatment of hundreds of thousands of stray cats in Beijing prior to the 2008 Olympic games, I feared for the worst. I went to bed that night with a surprising sense of loss. I guess I was more attached to Big Poppa than I had realized. I vowed that if she ever made it back to our apartment building, I would immediately swipe her away to the safety of my large, top-floor apartment. I figured my spare bedroom would be a good space for her to roam around without annoying any other apartment dwellers or causing any damage to the furniture.
My second chance came sooner than expected. I received a text message early the next morning: “bp is meowing outside of my room right now!” I hurriedly ran down the stairs, grabbed Big Poppa with two hands, and ran back up to my room, trying to stifle her loud meowing as best I could. I found a Tupperware container that was large enough for her to fit in and filled it with some cut-up newspaper strips, hoping that it would suffice as a temporary litter box while I was teaching class that morning. I was able to run out to a pet store that afternoon and get some supplies.
And that brings me to where I am today (one day later). I never would have expected to adopt a stray Chinese cat, but it seems like the best option for the time being. Big Poppa is turning out to be a great pet. Earlier this evening, she was chasing around a crumpled up napkin on my floor, seemingly convinced that it had a life of its own. And every time I sit on the couch, she plops herself right on top of me, making it pretty much impossible for me to get up.
As for future plans, I’m hoping to take Big Poppa to the vet next weekend to get her checked out for fleas, diseases, and any other issues (Dan, my teammate, is convinced that she’s pregnant, but I disagree because she’s so small and kitten-like). I’m also hoping that someone who lives away from this campus will be willing to take her in permanently. But I certainly wouldn’t mind taking care of her for a few more weeks, or months, until that person shows up.
