Cats of Europe

Here's the first fine speciman: a half-grown kitten from Cassis who climbed out the window (screens don't exist in Provence) and decided to sun himself on top of the awning of the ceramics boutique below. He was very playful, pouncing on the sudden spots of motion that appeared as the people walking underneath hit the awning, making it bounce up. After awhile he grew frustrated of not catching anything and went back inside.

We stumbled across this next guy in the little village of Lourmarin. He just peered out at us from beneath the gateway with his two glowing eyes, which are about all that show up of him. We named him Gollum.

Here I am later that same day, now in Bonnieux, with another cat, although this fellow was friendlier than the last. He was sunning himself, and when I approached he came over and sat in my lap for awhile. He was kinda dusty from rolling in the streets and on the town walls, but he had no problem with rubbing up against me. I felt bad leaving him, but I had to meet up with the rest of my group to go on to the next spot. Was nice to hold him for a bit, though.

Another cat outside another window sill. This time I was in Aix, over fall break, eating a chawarma at Nefertiti's. I was sitting by myself outside the restaurant when I noticed the poor guy. He had gotten out and couldn't seem to find his way back in, so he took advantage of his freedom and sniffed all the random stuff on top of the awning. Eventually he found his way back in.

Now to Rome and the Colliseum, which is filled with cats. Here are three of them (right next to the *s) who refused to let me get close. The city encourages them to live here, as they eat all the mice and rats and birds who might destroy the arena. Works for me.

Still in Rome at the Colliseum. This cat let me touch him but got a little squirmy when I tried to make him pose for a picture. You'd think they'd be used to people like me by now, right?

Ah, the cat lady of Rome. Someone's gotta feed them, right? I think she's giving them raw hamburger. And Whiskas canned stuff, of course. I'd like to have her job someday.

I forget the name of this little village (starts with a V, I know that...Valensole? la Verdière? Vinon-sur-Verdon?), but we stopped here to get lunch since most everything in Moustiers-Ste-Marie was closed during the off season. And this little cat decided to walk with me for awhile. He followed me, and I followed him, until we eventually parted ways at the marché. I guess he was more interested in playing in a field than buying cheese (which was disgusting; don't eat goat cheese if you can avoid it, it tasts like old gym socks). He was probably one of the friendliest cats yet.

Ah, Amsterdam! What a cursed city! Fortunately, the Posenboot kinda redeemed the place. It's basically the animal shelter of Amsterdam, except it's only for cats. Strays are taken there, and for a small donation you can go in and play with them. They're adoptable too, but that's not too practical for travelers like us. It's on Canal Singel, not far from the main street that the central train station is on. I highly recommend it.

Here I am inside the Posenboot. We met this odd little Tibetan guy, Gordon, and spent about an hour talking to him. After I sat down, Zena came over and sat down on my lab. She probably weighed about 20-25 pounds. Gordon told us the story of her name: One time, another cat was picking on her sister (the big black thing with the glowing eyes in the blue box behind me). Zena went over and defended her, and her sister (who's a little smaller, but not by much) cowered behind her. So Gordon (who has his own weird story) decided that the bog cat would be Zena and the littler one would be Gabrielle. Find out more about Gordon here.

At this point, it got cold. Really, really cold. And all the cats of Europe were curled up in front of roaring fires, dreaming of mice and trancendentalism and other cat-like things. So, no more pictures of cats.