Postcard from Bishkek

It’s amazing how many people seem to find pictures of cats alluring.  A few days ago, however, there was a startling photo posted  on a series of websites. The Daily Mail, in the UK, headlined the story about a cat show in Bishkek, “Is this the world’s scariest cat? Sphynx monster looks more like a gremlin than a pussycat“.

As it happens, I had been invited to the Cat Show and had intended to go  but, even though it was held on a Sunday, work me in the office and I was sorry to have missed the sight.

I must admit that the photo did not make the particular specimen look particularly appealing, but the words “monster” and “gremlin” seemed a little unkind … and two other photos in the report of the cat dressed up as a bride in a wedding dress certainly made me want to squirm.

It wasn’t, however, a universal reaction.  I was impressed, for example, by the reaction of Tatiana, my accountant, when I showed her the article: “Ohhh, kakaya kasavitsa!“, (What a Beauty!).

The cat is one of the Don Sphinx species, a hairless breed of cat which is of fairly recent origin.  The bloodline can be traced back to the discovery of a hairless cat by a cat breeder in Rostov-on-Don back in 1987 which was probably a cross with a more ancient breed of hairless cat, the Sphinx Cat.  Although not all registries recognize the breed, the Donskoy was recognized by the World Cat Federation ten years later and by the International Cat Association in 2005.  Despite their cold appearance, the breed is known to be a warm, affectionate and highly intelligent.

Now, at the moment I have five cats, (Victor – the original, Garfield – the not so original name chosen for a Ginger Tom, Mathilda – the only femal, Vasya and Tom – the two kittens); none of them Donskoys.  Victor is the only one who wasn’t a stray that happened to wander in, or was abandoned outside the office by someone knowing that we would take them in and try to find them a home.  We’ve had lots more strays dumped on us but we’ve managed to find homes for most of them.

These five all have a story and are now part of our “family” … or perhaps that should be part of the “workforce” as they spend most of the day with us in the office.  They even have their own “Job Description” which I put together a few years ago for a course.

Like me, Tatiana also has a number of cats … and dogs … and, from time to time, an assortment of other animals.  Her house, for example, was once home to rats, frogs … and spiders … and … well, you get the point.  That’s nothing, however, compared to Esengeldiev Mukeeva, the president of the Kyr Felinology Cat Club which organized the show, who has something like twenty cats and dogs in her home.

There were lots of other photos taken at that Cat Show, one of which was featured on a number of websites … of a particularly large specimen; giving something of a new meaning to the phrase “big cats”.

Incidentally, Tom is getting to be a “big cat”, himself.  We sometimes joke that he is a “feeding machine”.  As soon as I walk into the office in the early morning he meanders round my feet, looking up at me with his wide yellow green eyes and mewing loudly, demanding to be fed.   Having hoovered up whatever I’ve laid out for him, he’ll be back again an hour later.  He sits on my lap and bites my are if I have the temerity to try and ignore his requests.

Mind you, he gets plenty of exercise, so he should work all the weight he is putting on.  Having seen the older cats coming and going by the fortichka, the little fanlight in the kitchen window provided for ventilation purposes, he has managed to work out how to escape into the fresh air – something that Vasya has yet to do.

The other day I was in my flat on the first floor, (English style – second floor everywhere else in the world), and glanced out of the window to see Tom high up in the tree just outside the building.  I know that cats like climbing high, but I was concerned because I wasn’t sure he would be able to get down, especially when I saw that Vasya had chased him up the tree and was looking about distinctly nervous.

I remembered how many years ago, back in the UK, Rosie, (my first cat), had gone missing shortly after we had moved to North London.  I went out to look for her, called her name and whistled … nothing … then, far away in the distance I could hear her mewing.  I followed the sound across some open park land and a busy major road and looked up a tree … and there she was, trapped, scared out of her wits and not able to get down.  I went back home and fetched a ladder … and a friend.  The ladder wasn’t tall enough to reach her … but as my friend was little taller than me he climbed up and managed to grab hold of her.  Unfortunately, she panicked and lashed out at him, scratching his arm and he dropped her.  She landed on her feet – stared down the road and ran for home … with us in hot pursuit.  Fortunately, no harm was done to her … apart from being scared witless and never crossing that particular green again.

I had visions of having to effect another such rescue, but I needn’t have worried … First Tom and then Vasya edged their way back down the tree trunk and returned to terra firma.  They weren’t put off by their adventure and still race each other to the treetops.  My heart still misses a beat, but I feel a lot easier about it now.

I will feel even easier having come across a fascinating post on the BBC website: Who, What, Why: How do cats survive falls from great heights?.  I had thought it was just an urban myth that cats always managed to land on their feet … akin to them having nine lives … but it seems that there is some scientific justification to it.

 

Tags: Cats, Expat, Me, Reminiscences