Day Five Hundred & Eighteen
Saturday, November 5th 2011
Chicago, Chicago, Chicago. My cat is one of the most precious things in my life. A few months ago, I realized that to bring him home to America would be a potentially foolish endeavor. My mother is allergic to cats, it was only out of the kindness of her heart that I grew up with our cat, Snoopy, whom my mother had rescued on her parents' farm. Snoopy, a Balinese, lived well into her twenties. Suffice to say, however, that it was a relief for my mother (particularly her sinuses) when Snoopy's time came. We now are proud owners of three small & mischievous dogs, each one with a very distinct personality.
How then, with my future so uncertain, could I bear to bring Cago home with me? Even still, with my future only somewhat gaining clarity, I question the possibility of how to maintain the presence of my feline companion in my life. I talked to Haliunaa over the summer (whose family here in our village owns Chicago's mother) if I could possibly leave Chicago here. She said it would be okay, but then, of course, asked when I would come back to Mongolia.
I can't leave him. I love him too much. The thought of departing Mongolia without my precious little guy in tow breaks my heart, & I have spent far too much time already in mourning for that potential loss. He's my darling, & he has been with me since the second week I arrived in the Gobi.
It is now that I must think of clever strategies for maintaining Chicago in my life. I fear that I must do something I don't normally relish in doing, in asking others back home to essentially cat-sit for me while I figure my life out. Next summer will be a particular point of necessity in terms of friends, former coworkers, & the good graces of those who are willing to help me with my dearest animal friend.
Chicago is a good cat. He adores me, which may be part of the reason why I hold him in such high esteem. During the day, I allow him to roam free outside in the schoolyard, & he waits for me patiently until I emerge from the front doors of the school building at the end of my work day. A simple call of “Cago! Cago!” & he comes trotting over, pleased as pie to see me. In the wintertime, he even snuggles under the blankets with me.
How could I possibly entertain the ability of leaving him behind when he knows me as well as I know him?
Emily:
ReplyDeleteI would happily cat-sit for you.