But I only made it to the door. As soon as I opened the door to my apartment, a cute little tiny baby cat ran inside. My first reaction was, "OMG! I have a wild animal in my home. I should call the Animal Control Center so that they may handle this ferocious creature!" The poor ferocious creature was running all around like crazy, looking for something that he couldn't find. He ran into the living room, he ran into the bedroom, he ran into the kitchen - he ran everywhere, except outside.
|This is the ferocious creature that invaded my home. Can you hear him roar?|
|The ferocious creature was stuck in the evil bathtub for about 10 minutes.|
All I could do was stand there, looking at him. Surprised. Scared. I asked him (in Spanish), "What's up, lil' dude?" He looked me in the eye and said, "Meow". Not much of a talker, I noticed. I was afraid to hold him, because animals are dangerous and dirty. Right? And cats are particularly dirty, what with their Toxoplasma gondii and stuff. I know, because I translated the dossier for the reagent that tests for Toxo. But, whatever. The poor cat was running around like crazy, and he was dirty and surely hungry. So I fed him. I fed him the only thing I could think of: Milk. (Lesson No. 1: Do NOT feed a cat milk. Unless you enjoy cleaning kitty-poopy in the wee hours of the morn.) He drank his milk and meowed further.
|Ferocious beast devouring milk.|
At that moment, I realized that he was only a baby beast and so I figured I could hold him. He was so happy to be held. Furry little hair-ball. I was sure he belonged to someone - I mean, such a cute little monster had to belong to someone. But, to whom? I rang the doorbell in every single one of my neightbors' apartments, but no one answered. (The Germans have this crazy thing called "Work" that they go to during the day - pfft!).
And so I came to the most reasonable decision: The kitty was to stay with me, at least until Honey was home. That was not at all a problem. The problem was that the kitty wanted to eat. But what? What do kitties eat? And, was he really a kitten, or only a small cat? Because I've heard they need to be fed accordingly. But what? I tried carrots and an onion. (Lesson No. 2A: Cats don't eat vegetables.) I tried Corn Flakes and Müsli. (Lesson No. 2B: Cats don't like Kellogs thingies.) I tried bread. (Lesson No. 2C: Cats like bread.)
|The beast eating little pieces of bread.|
After feeding him, I had no clue what I should do next. I mean, what does one do with a cat? Should I play with him? Should I let him be? Should I take him out for a walk? (Lesson No. 3: Answers for the above questions --> Yes, Yes, NO!)
|The kitty enjoyed playing a little...|
|...then he enjoyed sleeping A LOT.|
Clueless, I sad down on the floor. The cat immediately climbed on me. Crazy thing, that cat was. I asked him something else (also in Spanish) and he ignored me; then I asked him in German, and he meowed. (Lesson No. 4: Cats speak the country's language.)
My German mother suggested that I create some kind of kitty toilet. And then it hit me: OMG! I can't leave this monster alone! He'll poop in places I will never know of! And so I began to follow the kitty around (I was so grateful that my apartment is so tiny...), which was just an awesome Tag game for him. He won. But I exercised a little. Win-Win.
|The temporary kitty-toilet. BTW, it didn't work...|
Although we were having a lot of fun together, I could not help but think that this cat belonged to someone. And this someone was more than likely really sad, because his ferocious creature was lost. Still -- I was in love. He was my little bit of heaven.
When Honey came home, we made a decision: If in one week no one claimed the cat, it would belong to me (he said "us", but whatever). He bought cat food and kitty litter; I posted some FOUND posters; and then there was nothing else to do but wait... and play!
Unfortunately, the owner of the cat called early the next morning. He lives two floors below me. He opened his door only for a second and the cat stormed out. He was late for work, so he couldn't run and search for the cat. He could only hope that a wonderful, magnanimous, awesome person (like me) found it and took care of it. He sounded really sad on the phone. And when he came over, the stupid cat recognized him at once.
So, yeah. That is my story about a car. When I gave the cat back, I felt like a little bit of me heart was breaking apart. I felt like there was a hole being dug in my soul. But, oh, well. I guess all I can do it be thankful, that for one day, one day at least, I had a cat.