How to take care of your cat in Ukraine

Starting with this very short story, I will start posting to a ‘fiction’ section on my website. Enjoy! I might even add comments. - Tom

You found her sometime in 2018. She was on the street, in front of your apartment building. You brought her a packet of food, and she decided it was worth sticking around, offering up her furry belly for a scratch. In the fall, it got cold, and you would always find her stuck in a tree, so you figured you’d better do something about it. You heard about stray animals in the post-Soviet countries—they made a video game out of the dogs that rode the Moscow metro—and you saw that ‘shelters’ here usually housed animals outside in wooden boxes, so you decided to give this one cat a home, and make a difference, if only a small one.

She did well. Your flat was on the third floor, there was plenty of light. She figured out the litter box right away, which was a big relief, and she would look through the large windows on the balcony and stare at—or maybe intensely scrutinize—the birds all day. You found the high-quality food, took her around to the vet, gave her a pill from time to time (she didn’t enjoy it). You found a rash on her chin, found the meds to keep it away, rubbing the lotion on her even when she hid her face in your armpit. You scooped the poop, cleaned the bowls, and while she still hid under the bed, things were okay.

Then you got the call from friends that things were definitely not okay; you started packing on February 22nd or 23rd, getting ready just in case. You collected all her toys in a plastic bag and got the carrier out. The morning of the 24th, as you heard the roar of the artillery to the north, you were able to collect her into the carrier bag and get in a waiting car, where you got on the road before 7am, driving past lines of cars filling up gasoline and lines of people standing at the ATMs. You rode down road you had never seen before, until you got far enough from the city.

The first couple of months were dark. You moved into a house in the village and were able to stay there. The windows were boarded up (some still boarded up today), but the cat was not too cross, except when the dog from next door dared to show his face in the doorway. The worst part was when you had to sit in the basement and wait out the air raids; the cat wouldn’t come with you, but she innocently greeted you when you came out. You were always relieved to see her.

Months passed, and you boiled pieces of chicken and tuna for her on a small gas grill. She appreciated the fresh food and would sit and wait while you made her a plate. You found out a friend relocated to Prague, so you fired up a VPN and found a pet store online with a .cz address, to order the food that she liked the best. You friend picked it up at his address, got it over the border to Lviv, and sent it to you.

Eventually the good pet food came back to Ukraine, and she would eat it with gusto. Time passed, and you stayed in the village, since artillery and missiles would never quiet down. She would still get a bit cross; she never got used to the dog, and sometimes her furry demeanor turned into claws and biting. She would pee in a corner and scratch it for a while, with the ears turned back while looking right at you, as if she were saying, I miss my window. I miss the birds.

And you would look back at her and think, So do I, little furry partner. So do I.