Postcard from Bishkek

Every now and again I write about the cats … over the years we have had lots of them, but at the moment we have five of them, each with their own character, charm and personality:

• There’s Victor, the oldest who is getting on somewhat, in cat years would be have been drawing a pension for some time now, but he’s also in a bad way showing signs of age.  He’s a motley grey and white, who takes life in his stride, lying back sedately observing all that goes on around him.
• Garfield is the other “grand old man”  of the troupe.  We have no idea where he came from, but one day he was sitting in the corridor, outside the office door and when I opened it he just marched in … made his way into the kitchen where there was some food laid out for Victor … and having eaten his fill started to explore his new surroundings … found a niche and fell asleep.
• Mathilda is a black and white Jenny.  She just appeared one day limping on three legs.  I think she must have been a domestic cat who had must have had an accident and run away from home … the bad leg had been bandaged … but not well, and she was obviously in pain.  We took her to the vets and nursed her back to health.  Over the years she has provided us with additional kittens but we’ve been fortunate in that we have been able to find homes for them.

We do have two kittens – well they are practically grown up now – but they are not from Mathilda … like her, they also “appeared” … “out of nowhere”.

• Vasya was one of a pair of Ginger toms who were delivered to us … they had either been abandoned or had found their own way in to the cellar of a neighbouring apartment block and one of the residents brought them to us.  Bandit, Vasya’s brother was very independent and adventurous … one day he went walkabout and never came back … I like to think that he was picked up and adopted by someone.  Vasya was originally much more timid but as he has grown up he, too, has developed his own character.
• Then there is Tom.  If Vasya’s brother was a Bandit, then Tom is like the “loveable rogue” of popular tradition; someone who, although they break the law for their own personal profit, is nice enough and charming so that everyone roots for them.   We don’t actually know where he came from or how he ended up in our office, but one day we suddenly heard a load “meeow”, looked up and there he was sitting on the floor, in the middle of the office, looking up with an expectant look on his face.  He has a rather loud meow and uses it shamefacedly to demand attention.

Everyone in the office seems to have their own favourite.  I, for example, have a special soft spot for Victor - my original cat and who is, after all, the only one who was not a stray.  Mathilda, as the only girl, gets a fair amount of affection and attention.  The kids all love Vasya but he values his freedom and  doesn’t like being smothered so has learned to scamper off when he sees them.  Tom, also runs off but he likes spending time around people and can be really affectionate.  For some reason Garfield manages to tug at people’s heartstrings.

It’s probably because of little thing like yesterday, when I went to take the garbage to the the rubbish bins.  The bins are located in the yard of the next apartment block.  It isn’t far, about a 100meter round trip – it only takes a few minutes and once a day we take plastic bags crammed full with household waste and throw them in these communal bins from where the municipal refuse collection service collect them.

Yesterday I set off and suddenly stopped … something attracted my attention, maybe it was just a premonition, but I turned around and there was Garfield following me.  Oh, yes, he was following me … he wasn’t out for a gentle stroll but was off at a trot … following in my footsteps.

I stopped and when he caught up with me, I bent over and stroked his head.  Then I turned around and set off again.  This sort of thing often happens and I thought that he would turn around and go back … but no, he followed me out onto the sidewalk.

This has also happened before and so I didn’t think anything special of it until I got to the end of fence outside our building.  At this point I expected him to turn back … that’s what usually happens.   It is true that on one occasion,  I was walking down to the hotel and one of the cats started to follow me … we got as far as Prospect Chui before I realized that I was going to have to turn round, pick him up and carry him back … but usually the traffic and passers by are enough to put them off.

This time, however, he carried on following me.

Because it was a Sunday morning, there wasn’t that much passing traffic, (either vehicular or pedestrian), so maybe that is why he seemed more confident.  I kept turning back and one passing woman asked me  jokingly, (I presume she was joking), asked me if he was my bodyguard.

As we passed the steps leading up to one shop doorway, one of the shop assistants smiled and called to him trying to coax him aside.  Back in the UK, we call “puss puss” but here people call “kiss kiss”.  Garfield stopped, looked up enquiringly and then turned and carried on his way.  When he came to the steps leading up to the next shop doorway he climbed up two of the steps and sniffed in the air.  Whatever he could smell, he turned once more and continued to follow me.

We made our way into the yard and negotiated our way through the parked vehicles – and one moving vehicle – to the bins where I threw our bags of rubbish.  Then we turned and made our way back home.

I hope that Garfield enjoyed his walk on the wild side.

 

Tags: Cats, Life_in_Kyrgyzstan