About A Cat

A happy story about a skinny little stray cat who liked crawling onto people's laps

From early childhood I have imagined that I can communicate with cats. Not in baby talk, which I think offends cats (and infants), but in an unspoken, maybe telepathic way. If I were in the X-Men my mutant identity would be Claws, Independent Claws. I would leave all the feline superpowers—fighting, running, seeing in the dark, etc—to my colleagues; my mutant power would be the ability to summon cats and ask them to do things (because you cannot command cats) like rip people’s hands to shreds, pee on the most expensive item in the house (they have an eye for luxury), or make their humans feel bad by rejecting all cat food brands and openly preferring other people. My costume would be black and completely covered in white fur. I would also have the power to cover a room in cat fur just seconds after it’s been vacuumed thoroughly. My targets would never know a moment’s peace, nor would they want it. That is how cats have subjugated the human race. They are perfect predators who have discovered that it is not necessary to murder anything when being adorable produces the same results. There’s also less bloodshed and therefore less cleaning up afterwards.

At home I live with three cats: Drogon, 9, who ran into my apartment and decided that it was acceptable lodgings; Jacob, 6, and Buffy, 5, who are from the cat colony that has lived in the parking area for at least 30 years. In addition to the three overlords I feed two roof cats, Boo and Bangs, who come to the window everyday. Downstairs the colony is composed of Goose, son of Buffy; Elio and Gia, who are inseparable; and five more cats I have not named because I don’t need more attachments. Yes, it’s expensive to feed 13 cats who need the occasional visit to the vet (7/13 are neutered), but looking after them is my mental health regimen and it’s cheaper than therapy.

The other half of my mental health regimen is taking long walks at least thrice a week. On one such walk in September, during hard lockdown, I took a break and sat on a concrete bench on Bonifacio High Street beside the Shangri-la Hotel in BGC. I was wondering whether quarantine rules allowed me to drink my take-out coffee in the middle of a public park, when a cat sauntered out of the bushes and sat on my lap. No introductions, the cat just plopped down on me. It was a tortoiseshell cat with enormous eyes in her tiny face and a short, curling tail. Unlike the other cats she was very skinny and her fur was patchy, as if clumps had fallen out. I assumed she was hungry and offered her some kibble, for I am one of those people who always carry kibble in case we run into a hungry cat. She declined. All she wanted was a lap to nap on. I did not move for ten minutes. Clearly the cat was used to humans, and may even have been an indoor cat once. Behind every stray cat is some heart-rending story: abandoned cats, runaway cats, lost cats, overpopulated clowders.

A week later I was out walking again and paid the cat a visit. I found her at the same spot, and again she crawled onto my lap for a snooze. That same night I ran into Claire, an expat who volunteers with Cats of BGC. She knew exactly which cat I was referring to. She said the cat’s name was Fiona, and the reason she was so thin was that she didn’t like dry cat food. Another volunteer, Marcelle, had been giving her wet food. I volunteered to help out by bringing pouches of cat food for Fiona every week. I buy tuna pouches for my cats anyway, so it wouldn’t be a bother.

Thus Fiona became part of my Monday routine. I would walk to BGC, bring the tuna pouches to the volunteer’s building, then visit Fiona. There are dozens of cats in the area, which has been designated a Safe Zone for Cats. The hotel, which has known the wrath of animal welfare advocates and learned from the experience, now feeds the community cats kibble twice a day. Despite the number of cats there, I’ve always been able to spot Fiona quickly. Like my house cats who can always tell when I’m on my way home, she seemed to sense when I was arriving for a visit. I would feed her, then she would take her lap siesta. Thanks to her feeders she put on weight and her fur grew more lush, but she still looks like a strong breeze would carry her away.

In the last three weeks my visits grew more frequent. Even at night when there are lots of people strolling in the park, we always spotted each other. It became more difficult to leave—she would follow me, or aim her guilt-ray eyes at me. Separation anxiety set in. Regular visits would not be enough, she needed a home. She needed to stay indoors with a warm lap she could crawl onto, for if I am a cat person she is a people cat.

The cats at High Street are neutered (best option for population control and also better for their health), fed, and given vet care when needed, but they’re still outdoor cats with a high risk of disease, exposure to parasites and toxic substances, and traffic injury. Recently one of the cats in the park was killed in a hit-and-run. People abandon kittens in the park, bringing new medical issues and parasites to the community. And while an Animal Welfare Law now exists and people who harm or dump cats can be punished, there will always be cat-hating assholes. There is a greater awareness of animal rights, but periodically someone will decide to round up the cats and “take them to the pound”, which almost certainly means extermination. The park cats need to be safe at home.

In Fiona’s case I was sure that when she lived indoors she would gain weight and grow stronger. I began posting appeals for adopters. It turns out that Fiona is well-known among park visitors: someone would take a break, and she would sit by (or on) them like an angel of stress relief. But the cat people already had too many cats and there were no takers.

In the pandemic I’ve managed to convert some friends into cat people. For some reason filmmakers and critics are the most susceptible. I found out that Elvert, a filmmaker, used to have cats and was waiting to be adopted by a cat again. Because that’s how adoption works: the cat has to choose you, too. I started sending Elvert photos of Fiona and noting how she needed extra care and affection. Before long he became emotionally invested in her welfare. Last week he contacted Cats of BGC to ask about adoption.

First he had to get his house ready for a feline companion: window screens, litterbox, food, litter, carrier. Then came the most important step: meeting Fiona.

On Thursday I was in the park by 5pm. (The pandemic has given everyone a new appreciation of parks and open-air spaces. I, for one, am over the mall. We need more parks.) I spotted Fiona by the hotel, where the staff were putting out bowls of kibble. When I called to her she joined me at a picnic table. She had a slight limp, but seemed fine otherwise—she ate all the wet food I brought, and then settled on my lap. We waited for Elvert to show up. Oh the suspense!

When the potential parent appeared, Fiona observed him curiously, and then he offered her a churu treat and she went to him. For a cat with fussy eating habits she ate a lot that afternoon, and then she sat on Elvert’s jacket. She stayed there while Michelle from Cats of BGC talked to Elvert; she seemed to know that she was the topic of conversation. I had thought that this was just an introduction, but human and cat had decided that this was it. Fifteen minutes later we put her in the backpack I brought, which was too small for my cats but perfect for Fiona. She made herself comfortable and waited quietly while we had dinner. Then we took her to Animal House to have her leg x-rayed—there was no fracture, the vet just prescribed an antibiotic and a dewormer. My cats would’ve screamed and attempted to escape if they so much as saw a white coat, but Fiona was perfectly well-behaved.

It’s been 24 hours since Fiona, now nicknamed Fifi, became an indoor cat. She already has an Instagram account and her movements are avidly documented. According to her proud parent she sleeps most of the day and wakes up every couple of hours to have a full meal—she will not be skinny for long. In her videos she looks utterly content, as if she feels truly safe for the first time. This cat is home.

Would you like to adopt a community cat? Send a message to @BGCcats on Instagram. If you can’t adopt a cat yet, consider a donation to @cats_of_technohub, @kapon.ampon, or any of the volunteer groups who look after homeless cats. Thank you!