When Marianne left, I inherited her cat, Necio. Necio is a Peace Corps mascot of sorts. He was first adopted by Marianne’s predecessor, Kelly. Kelly had him neutered (thank you Bob Barker), and housebroken. On her last day in site, Marianne walked him over. He was wrapped in a sheet, unaware of what was going on. We took him into my house and I unwrapped him like a present. He popped his head out, took one look around, and ran away. This was the beginning of the adventures of Necio.
I searched in vain for him. After a few times around the neighborhood, I gave up, hoping that he would eventually come back. He didn’t that day or the next; I figured that he had made a home somewhere else. So I went about my life as usual: speaking Spanish, beating the hell out of kids at soccer, etc. One day, about a week later, a woman stopped me as I was walking out of the local pulperia.
It was Marianne’s old host mom, Blanca. At that moment I didn’t recognize her, and became a bit freaked out when she started yelling “El gato! El gato!” I thought that she was just some crazy lady (Puntarenas is chock-full of them), until she said “El gato, Necio. Venga para recogerlo.” I got really excited when she told me that she had him, and walked with her back to her house.
As she promised, he was lounging around her yard. He seemed well, and even happy to see me. He came up and nuzzled into my legs, and began purring. That didn’t last long. I grabbed him by the neck and wrapped him in my gym towel (poor guy), and started walking down the street with my cat.
People in the projects have seen a lot, but none of them neglected to stop and laugh at my meowing, crying ball of towel and fur. Necio tried desperately to get away, but I had him in an awkward headlock, drawing more laughter. I acknowledged my neighbors by saying in Spanish “don’t worry, just walking my cat!” More laughter, more scratches. I began to wonder to myself “why did I agree to this again?”
I got him in my room and closed the door. He was my prisoner. Scared out of his mind, he hid under my bed all day. I set him up with food and water, and hoped that he’d stay this time. As night fell, he poked his pink nose out from under my sheets. I egged him on, calling to him. He slowly emerged from the bed, and I had to admit to him that he was a beautiful animal. He is a deep golden color with orange stripes. His eyes match his coat: two golden rings. His sheer size is impressive; my host mom Ania refers to him as “enormo” or the “tigre.” After taking a lap around my room, he ate, drank, and sat on the bed with me. I hoped that he had gotten the point that this was his new home. Of course, he didn’t.
I took the bottom slat of glass out of my window so that Necio could jump out and go to the bathroom, and hang out outside. I was a bit worried about letting him have his freedom, but it was the way he lived with Marianne, and I didn’t want to mess with the system. The main reason that I was worried is that Necio has no, um, testosterone. I was afraid that the male cat that lives here would fight him and scare him away. I was also afraid that he would get made fun of by other cats. Most of the female cats and dogs here, not unlike the humans, are pregnant or trying to become pregnant. I didn’t want Necio’s lack of necessary equipment to get him down. Apparently, this was not a problem.
He left and came back, and became comfortable living with me. I gave him a constant supply of food, and he gave me good company. Everything went fine until I left for Guanacaste.
I came back from the beach trip to find my host aunt standing in the middle of my bed, hanging laundry on clotheslines she had hung across my room. “Hey David,” she said with a smile. “It’s raining outside, so we’re hanging the laundry in here.” I told her that it was cool with me, and searched the room for my cat. I saw that Ania had not put out food like she said she would. He was nowhere to be found.
I walked into the kitchen and asked Ania what happened to Necio. “Se fue,” she said, meaning that he’d left. “I don’t think that he likes you or this house very much. You should just let him go,” she said in Spanish.
“Thanks for your support and help Ania, you really blew this big time. Shit!” I said in English, turning from her.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Thanks Ania, you are the best” in Spanish.
“Oh. Well, thanks.”
The next day I went to Blanca’s house, and sure enough, he was there. Again, I wrapped the brat in my gym towel. More scratching, crying and laughing. When I got him back to my room, however, he seemed happy. I think that he thought that I had abandoned him. I pet him, fed him, and he felt at home.
He hasn’t run away since. He hangs out in my room during the day, and goes out all night. This is great in the fact that he doesn’t pee on my floor, or poop on my bed. However, at about four or five, every morning, I awake with a jolt as he crashes through the window, into the bed and on top of my face. Every now and then, I wake up to see him fly through the window followed by Negro (the other cat of the household). They then proceed to fight, bringing my blood pressure to new heights. A few times, he has crashed into the room followed by a totally random cat off the street that I then have to cram out of the slit in my window. Did I mention that “Necio” is Spanish for “annoying”?
Even with him living up to his name, Necio is good company. We read together, watch movies, and he is even lying in bed next to me as I write this. This place can get pretty lonely. In such times, it is nice to have a little friend who, in thick fur in the 110 degree heat, may be suffering as much, if not more than I am.
P.S. Beating the hell out of kids at soccer is not all I have been doing. I’ll update you ASAP on all of my new projects that have been keeping me really busy.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
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