R.I.P. Ginger the Diplocat, 2000-2014
The Ginger Cat has been a part of our family since we were
Peace Corps Volunteers in Morocco. I remember picking her off the street in
Beni Mellal, just another kitten abandoned by her mom who apparently didn't
have enough milk to feed a full litter. Along with her was her twin sister,
Luther. I had assumed Luther was a boy, but once it became clear that this was
an honest mistake and that Luther wasn't growing a willie, it was too late to
change the name. A Boy named Sue. A Girl named Luther.
The Ginger Cat was rare for cats in that she responded
whenever her name was called, and decisively so. She had amazing pipes for a
five pound cat. Although she was well fed, her weight never fluctuated much
beyond the five pound range.
Since Morocco, the Ginger Cat managed to travel unlike any pet I have ever known. She became a bona fide diplocat, if you will. From Morocco, she made the move to New York with us, where she became strictly an indoor cat. After New York, we moved to North Carolina and the Lake Norman area. What a treat! From the city to the country. Birds, squirrels, snakes, moles, you name it. The Ginger Cat finally had a territory and abundant hunting ground that remained undisputed for the time of our stay there.
She would move on with us to Washington, DC, where she would, again, remain an indoor cat, along with her companion Leddy, the Persian Cat.
From DC, we moved on to Jordan, where she could move in and out as she pleased. From Jordan to Nepal, Nepal to Bolivia, and finally Tanzania, where she lasted only a few months. I am still amazed by the fact that the Ginger Cat was able to travel with us as easily as she did, considering that she was the worst cat ever to take to the vet. This kitty would not let the vet touch her without a fight, not ever. The Ginger Cat, all three kilos of her, was tough, tough, tough, as cats usually are. In Nepal, for example, she survived a fight with a mongoose that nearly killed her. I'll be the first person to attest that a cat having nine lives is not just an expression.
I remember taking the cat to a vet in Washington, DC before our trip to Jordan for the obligatory immunization. This was a complete disaster from the start. Even five people couldn't hold her down. There were four vet assistants handling an extremity, plus me holding her head, and it still wasn't enough. All she had to do was release one leg, and all bets were off. Houdini had nothing on this kitty. Once she freed herself, she would cause further havoc by jumping on the shelves at the vet's office and knocking over glasses and jars. Calamity Cat in action. Before our trip to Tanzania, the vet in DC took one look at the growling cat and decided he wanted no part of her. Yep, he said. That cat looks healthy. Smart choice. The Ginger Cat was more than ready to take him out.
Her transitions to different countries usually occurred without a hitch, although we started to see chinks in her armor once we got to Dar. She would still go hunting, lizards and snakes usually, but all of a sudden I saw her laboring with her breathing just a little more whenever I saw her sleeping.
I still have no idea how she died, really. The vet officially said it was pneumonia, but I think it was a tank job on his part. She was suffering from some unidentifiable ailment that in the end killed her. I would like to say she went quietly and peacefully, but she fought until the end, which is symbolic for the fighter that she was. Whether she would have survived in the States is not for me to say. But the vet certainly didn't know what the hell he was doing.
Earlier today, I saw Teddy the gardener jump over a bush, apparently in hot pursuit of something. It was a little black mamba, quite possibly the most venomous snake in the business. He finally was able to kill the snake with a blow to the head, aided by one of his hoes. I also thought right away about the Ginger Cat. With her still alive, I am certain that snake wouldn't have gone anywhere near this yard. She was an extraordinary hunter.
I suppose I should think more positively here. After all, what would her fate have been in Morocco, if she had survived? Six, maybe seven years, and squeezing out a litter three times a year? Who knows?
At any rate, the Ginger Cat, sadly, is no more. Almost fourteen years and six different countries (not counting the ones we visited) later, the bird and reptile population of the world can breathe more easily.
Bye-bye, Ginger Cat. What a ride it's been, and it wouldn't have been the same without you.
Since Morocco, the Ginger Cat managed to travel unlike any pet I have ever known. She became a bona fide diplocat, if you will. From Morocco, she made the move to New York with us, where she became strictly an indoor cat. After New York, we moved to North Carolina and the Lake Norman area. What a treat! From the city to the country. Birds, squirrels, snakes, moles, you name it. The Ginger Cat finally had a territory and abundant hunting ground that remained undisputed for the time of our stay there.
She would move on with us to Washington, DC, where she would, again, remain an indoor cat, along with her companion Leddy, the Persian Cat.
From DC, we moved on to Jordan, where she could move in and out as she pleased. From Jordan to Nepal, Nepal to Bolivia, and finally Tanzania, where she lasted only a few months. I am still amazed by the fact that the Ginger Cat was able to travel with us as easily as she did, considering that she was the worst cat ever to take to the vet. This kitty would not let the vet touch her without a fight, not ever. The Ginger Cat, all three kilos of her, was tough, tough, tough, as cats usually are. In Nepal, for example, she survived a fight with a mongoose that nearly killed her. I'll be the first person to attest that a cat having nine lives is not just an expression.
I remember taking the cat to a vet in Washington, DC before our trip to Jordan for the obligatory immunization. This was a complete disaster from the start. Even five people couldn't hold her down. There were four vet assistants handling an extremity, plus me holding her head, and it still wasn't enough. All she had to do was release one leg, and all bets were off. Houdini had nothing on this kitty. Once she freed herself, she would cause further havoc by jumping on the shelves at the vet's office and knocking over glasses and jars. Calamity Cat in action. Before our trip to Tanzania, the vet in DC took one look at the growling cat and decided he wanted no part of her. Yep, he said. That cat looks healthy. Smart choice. The Ginger Cat was more than ready to take him out.
Her transitions to different countries usually occurred without a hitch, although we started to see chinks in her armor once we got to Dar. She would still go hunting, lizards and snakes usually, but all of a sudden I saw her laboring with her breathing just a little more whenever I saw her sleeping.
I still have no idea how she died, really. The vet officially said it was pneumonia, but I think it was a tank job on his part. She was suffering from some unidentifiable ailment that in the end killed her. I would like to say she went quietly and peacefully, but she fought until the end, which is symbolic for the fighter that she was. Whether she would have survived in the States is not for me to say. But the vet certainly didn't know what the hell he was doing.
Earlier today, I saw Teddy the gardener jump over a bush, apparently in hot pursuit of something. It was a little black mamba, quite possibly the most venomous snake in the business. He finally was able to kill the snake with a blow to the head, aided by one of his hoes. I also thought right away about the Ginger Cat. With her still alive, I am certain that snake wouldn't have gone anywhere near this yard. She was an extraordinary hunter.
I suppose I should think more positively here. After all, what would her fate have been in Morocco, if she had survived? Six, maybe seven years, and squeezing out a litter three times a year? Who knows?
At any rate, the Ginger Cat, sadly, is no more. Almost fourteen years and six different countries (not counting the ones we visited) later, the bird and reptile population of the world can breathe more easily.
Bye-bye, Ginger Cat. What a ride it's been, and it wouldn't have been the same without you.
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