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zaichikarkyMy mom has always been very superstitious, which has given way to various bizarre OCD habits. She once told me that she avoids stepping on painted handicapped parking spaces since she has an irrational fear of becoming handicapped. She also detests the number 13 and always tries to avoid making any kind of appointments or major plans on the 13th day of the month. She always makes me knock on wood if she doesn't like something I say, or another bizarre Russian superstitious ritual which involves pretending to spit away the bad words.
Funny enough, just about the only superstition she's managed to avoid happens to be the only superstition my dad practiced for most of his life. Any time any kind of cat, black or not, crossed dad's path, he would literally turn around and go the opposite direction. This happened all the time when we'd go on walks with the dog, and it sometimes would even happen while driving too. It was an annoying habit, to say the least, but at least I didn't have to deal with mom periodically making me knock on wood or pretend to spit.
I'm actually rather proud that around 8 years ago I managed to completely destroy my dad's only superstitious belief. When I was in college at age ~19, I decided to get a cat. I've always thought black cats were the prettiest ones, and I knew that shelters were full of them due to superstitious beliefs. I found two black cats I was interested in when I checked out a shelter that day. One was a young, female Maine Coon. She was very sweet and calm when I held her, but she was long-haired and the shelter volunteers told me that she would probably grow to become a very large cat, which I was apprehensive with at the time.
Instead I decided on another cat. A young, male, 4 month old who purred when I held him, but immediately hid under the cages when I put him down. I should have known this to be a sign. A more glaring sign should have been when he savaged the elderly lady who put him into the crate when I finally decided on him. "It's my blood thinners!" She insisted, as she tried to clean up the blood with a smile when I asked if she was ok. "He's just nervous!"
When I showed my parents a photo I took of him a day or two after I got him, my dad's only words were "A black cat! Look, he already looks like a spawn of the devil... ew!"
~4 month old black cat a day or two after I got him. He's laying on my bed and looking pretty scared.
I realized I had to give him another name because the Shelter's name for him "Morrison" just wouldn't do at all. I actually wanted to name him "Diki"(Russian for "feral"), but my mom wouldn't approve. Eventually I settled on the cuter "Kotik"(Russian for "male kitty").
Quickly, I realized that Kotik was definitely a problem cat. The shelter told me they found him feral when he was around 4 months old. For dogs, this may not have been too much of a problem getting them domesticated and trusting, but for cats, I found it was enough to ingrain severe personality problems for the rest of their lives that many domestic cats don't develop.
His biggest problem was that the entire time he stayed in my college apartment, he basically never came out from under my bed. He would make an exception almost every night at 2 in the morning or later. This became too much for me after several weeks, and I put him into the living room, that offered less security than hiding under a queen sized bed and he wasn't too pleased at that. When the shelter asked how he was doing, I told them honestly that he was problematic and they offered to take him back and put him into foster care.
I asked my parents what they thought about this and they said that a cat isn't like a toy that I could return and that I needed to be a responsible pet owner and keep him. I listened to them and kept Kotik until I took in a second cat, Ashes, from a friend who was entering the military and really needed me to take her cat. Ashes was a domestic cat for his entire life, socialized and overall people friendly, but he also was a tom cat who had a number of dominance issues. The reason my military friend ended up taking him to live with her in her apartment was because her mom didn't want to keep him around anymore since he was a giant bully not only to the other cats, but to the small dogs in the family. He decided to inflict his reign of terror on Kotik pretty much immediately. I felt bad for Kotik and brought him over to my mom's house, where I could see almost immediate improvement. He would venture out from under the bed there and my mom had a giant soft spot.
"He reminds me of me!" She said, tears brimming. "He's just a lonely little kitty."
While my dad was unhappy about it, never liking cats his entire life, he grew to accept my "orphan" as mom's new friend. And that was around the time when he stopped turning around and going the opposite direction when a cat would cross his path. I mean, the "spawn of the devil" now occupied his guest room. It must have not have made any sense to make a U-turn due to random cats crossing the streets. At least finally Kotik found a human he liked and trusted in my mom, and he was great for her too. She always claimed he'd lower her blood pressure since he'd often be on her lap while she worked from home.
I never approved, but she eventually turned him into an indoor/outdoor cat. He would spend much of his day perched on our roof, coming in and out of the window through the cat door, then use the tree to get down and explore the neighborhood. This probably brought out his other behaviors such as the marking, which he loved to do every time I came over, or when my parents came back from a trip. Not to mention the random "presents" he would bring my mom. Out of all 3 of our cats, Kotik was the one who survived the longest. I used to say it was because he had a better instinct than our other two cats. Although I'd witnessed him fly out into the street one too many times someone would leave/enter our house.
Last autumn, he disappeared without a trace. He was around 8 years old. At least he never put mom through the shock of discovering his dead body on the side of the road. This is probably the worst memory I've ever had since I adored Ashes the most of any cat I've owned. Mom was really the only one who was sad about it, I mostly fed bad for her. I'd warned her for years about letting him stay out there, how much it lowers the life expectancy of cats, but I guess she believed in my friend's words. "They are free, after all. There must be something good in that, right?"
*Yes, I realize this was the topic for Week 6. If you really would like an explanation...
Last week I was a giant flake again and yet AGAIN slept through the deadline, this time not managing to frantically pump out an entry last minute. I'm usually too busy to write Idol entries on the weekends, so Monday is when I get them done. I was really looking forward to writing this entry, so I've decided to write it instead of the current topic which I thought about for days and couldn't come up with anything.
Funny enough, just about the only superstition she's managed to avoid happens to be the only superstition my dad practiced for most of his life. Any time any kind of cat, black or not, crossed dad's path, he would literally turn around and go the opposite direction. This happened all the time when we'd go on walks with the dog, and it sometimes would even happen while driving too. It was an annoying habit, to say the least, but at least I didn't have to deal with mom periodically making me knock on wood or pretend to spit.
I'm actually rather proud that around 8 years ago I managed to completely destroy my dad's only superstitious belief. When I was in college at age ~19, I decided to get a cat. I've always thought black cats were the prettiest ones, and I knew that shelters were full of them due to superstitious beliefs. I found two black cats I was interested in when I checked out a shelter that day. One was a young, female Maine Coon. She was very sweet and calm when I held her, but she was long-haired and the shelter volunteers told me that she would probably grow to become a very large cat, which I was apprehensive with at the time.
Instead I decided on another cat. A young, male, 4 month old who purred when I held him, but immediately hid under the cages when I put him down. I should have known this to be a sign. A more glaring sign should have been when he savaged the elderly lady who put him into the crate when I finally decided on him. "It's my blood thinners!" She insisted, as she tried to clean up the blood with a smile when I asked if she was ok. "He's just nervous!"
When I showed my parents a photo I took of him a day or two after I got him, my dad's only words were "A black cat! Look, he already looks like a spawn of the devil... ew!"
~4 month old black cat a day or two after I got him. He's laying on my bed and looking pretty scared.
I realized I had to give him another name because the Shelter's name for him "Morrison" just wouldn't do at all. I actually wanted to name him "Diki"(Russian for "feral"), but my mom wouldn't approve. Eventually I settled on the cuter "Kotik"(Russian for "male kitty").
Quickly, I realized that Kotik was definitely a problem cat. The shelter told me they found him feral when he was around 4 months old. For dogs, this may not have been too much of a problem getting them domesticated and trusting, but for cats, I found it was enough to ingrain severe personality problems for the rest of their lives that many domestic cats don't develop.
His biggest problem was that the entire time he stayed in my college apartment, he basically never came out from under my bed. He would make an exception almost every night at 2 in the morning or later. This became too much for me after several weeks, and I put him into the living room, that offered less security than hiding under a queen sized bed and he wasn't too pleased at that. When the shelter asked how he was doing, I told them honestly that he was problematic and they offered to take him back and put him into foster care.
I asked my parents what they thought about this and they said that a cat isn't like a toy that I could return and that I needed to be a responsible pet owner and keep him. I listened to them and kept Kotik until I took in a second cat, Ashes, from a friend who was entering the military and really needed me to take her cat. Ashes was a domestic cat for his entire life, socialized and overall people friendly, but he also was a tom cat who had a number of dominance issues. The reason my military friend ended up taking him to live with her in her apartment was because her mom didn't want to keep him around anymore since he was a giant bully not only to the other cats, but to the small dogs in the family. He decided to inflict his reign of terror on Kotik pretty much immediately. I felt bad for Kotik and brought him over to my mom's house, where I could see almost immediate improvement. He would venture out from under the bed there and my mom had a giant soft spot.
"He reminds me of me!" She said, tears brimming. "He's just a lonely little kitty."
While my dad was unhappy about it, never liking cats his entire life, he grew to accept my "orphan" as mom's new friend. And that was around the time when he stopped turning around and going the opposite direction when a cat would cross his path. I mean, the "spawn of the devil" now occupied his guest room. It must have not have made any sense to make a U-turn due to random cats crossing the streets. At least finally Kotik found a human he liked and trusted in my mom, and he was great for her too. She always claimed he'd lower her blood pressure since he'd often be on her lap while she worked from home.
I never approved, but she eventually turned him into an indoor/outdoor cat. He would spend much of his day perched on our roof, coming in and out of the window through the cat door, then use the tree to get down and explore the neighborhood. This probably brought out his other behaviors such as the marking, which he loved to do every time I came over, or when my parents came back from a trip. Not to mention the random "presents" he would bring my mom. Out of all 3 of our cats, Kotik was the one who survived the longest. I used to say it was because he had a better instinct than our other two cats. Although I'd witnessed him fly out into the street one too many times someone would leave/enter our house.
Last autumn, he disappeared without a trace. He was around 8 years old. At least he never put mom through the shock of discovering his dead body on the side of the road. This is probably the worst memory I've ever had since I adored Ashes the most of any cat I've owned. Mom was really the only one who was sad about it, I mostly fed bad for her. I'd warned her for years about letting him stay out there, how much it lowers the life expectancy of cats, but I guess she believed in my friend's words. "They are free, after all. There must be something good in that, right?"
*Yes, I realize this was the topic for Week 6. If you really would like an explanation...
Last week I was a giant flake again and yet AGAIN slept through the deadline, this time not managing to frantically pump out an entry last minute. I'm usually too busy to write Idol entries on the weekends, so Monday is when I get them done. I was really looking forward to writing this entry, so I've decided to write it instead of the current topic which I thought about for days and couldn't come up with anything.
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Date: 2014-04-29 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-29 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-30 08:45 am (UTC)I enjoyed reading this.
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Date: 2014-04-30 02:34 pm (UTC)Yeah, I can see where your dad got that impression.
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Date: 2014-05-02 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-04-30 06:10 pm (UTC)I'm glad he took to your Mom. My sister has a rehabilitated feral cat she took in as a kitten, and it is still terrified of other people and spends a lot of time under the bed when visitors are around... but it adores my sister. :)
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Date: 2014-05-02 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-30 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-05-01 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-02 04:54 am (UTC)Yeah, I was devastated when I found Ashes : (. So incredibly depressed for weeks. He was always my favorite cat. He got loose when I moved to a new apt for a second time and I wasn't too successful finding him at night. That was the second time he got loose there, so I didn't think too much of having him spend the night out there since dad did it before and I found him later on. It was a giant shocker waking up to that : (.
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Date: 2014-05-01 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-05-02 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-02 04:55 am (UTC)