Demon kitty and the depressed cat

Fuzzy, our charcoal gray semi-Persian has been the resident cat for eight years, which seems a long time indeed when one ponders the trouble and anxiety he brought to our lives.ย  It was because of him that we had to construct partitioning doors so he couldn’t get to our good furniture and pee on it. No way could we have artsy floor rugs to prettify our place, as he would promptly pee on them too. A LOT would be the number of things we have had to throw away because of this. But he has a cute face, so we dealt with it instead of throwing him out too.

I realized early on that he was the proverbial scaredy cat, frightened by sudden noises, shy around visitors. You could forget that he even existed, given that he spent long hours sleeping/hiding under the bed, only to emerge for food and his precious water.

When he began to display an unusual interest in a certain ugly tomcat that taunted him from the balcony door , I began to think (twisted logic, I know) perhaps Fuzzy would like some feline company in the house.

Cue little lost rescued kitten, whom we called little billi at first. She looked sweet and tiny and pathetic, but was actually the devil in disguise. We kept the two physically apart initially, though little billi was still visible through the glass separating door and I could see that her presence was making Fuzzy edgy. When they played ‘pawsie’, the Fuzzster was curious and wary but the little one was feisty and playful. She’d stick her skinny paws way out to swat at him, while Fuzzy stayed just beyond reach, watchful.IMG_0258IMG_0092 Eventually I let them spend time together. If she didn’t appreciate her tiny butt being sniffed by the persistent Fuzzy (she is quite a smelly kitten) she’d turn around and jump on him or swat and nip at his paws to make him back off. He would beat a hasty retreat then, clueless about how to deal with this aggressive little creature who had taken over not only his space but his family’s time and attention. So we were amazed and delighted to find her sleeping snuggled next to him one day on his wicker bench…and that he had allowed it! I decided Fuzzy was ambivalent about this newcomer, quite sure he only pretended to get annoyed by her presence, though I did have to yank her away from him when the attacks got too annoying. My Instagram bears evidence of quite a few of her antics. (do check them out!)

When little billi joined him once too often on his bed, Fuzzy stopped sleeping there altogether. IMG_0369 I should have known better than to give them food at the same time too. Little billi was a voracious eater and ate hungrily and greedily, even taking over Fuzzy’s bowl forcing him to back away slowly and be patient until she was done. It was hilarious to hear her grrs as she attacked her food bowl. She was tiny, but she already had the large personality and attitude of a street cat. IMG_0360IMG_0361 Little billi morphed into demon-kitty for the way she ambushed and attacked, biting and swatting anything that moved. Her appetite for play was insatiable, and for the first few weeks all we did was watch her and play with her and delight in her presence. Her favourite game was scrunched-up-newspaper-football. It seemed what we had on our hands was the most playful kitten in the world, lighting up our lives with her craziness. What was most amazing and joyous however was the fastidiousness with which she took to her litter box. She knew exactly where to go from day one. I was in love. IMG_0270IMG_0304 She liked sleeping snuggled with Amu, and Amu loved her snuggliness too. She was going through a rough time in school and it was comforting to have such a kitten-like kitten to come home to. She kept her company while she worked on assignments at her desk, either curled on her lap or shoulder, or just hanging around watching her write, swatting her hand occasionally or trying to chomp on her pen.

But as Amu’s cloud of school-related gloom lifted, an altogether different cloud seemed to have descended elsewhere. Fuzzy’s behavioural issues were beginning to enter new territory. If we had been dogged by his peeing and marking before, we now suddenly had to add spraying to his repertoire of activities, something he had never done before. Now, he started to back up against a variety of vertical surfaces, quiver his furry tail, and let loose a jet of particularly foul-smelling piss. Up till now, we could handle his daily misdemeanours near the windows and doors. What was horrifying was when I realized he had begun to mark us. I found a patch of piss on my side of the bed one day. The very same day he peed on the bathroom mat as well. He also peed on my favourite chappals. Also Huz’s. He sprayed my bedroom door. He peed under my dresser. He sprayed my chest of drawers. He sprayed the bass speaker on my table. He wandered into my room one day and sprayed the curtains, all things he had never done before. Little billi/demon-kitty became my official pee detector, sniffing out places when I couldn’t figure out where the odour was wafting from. AlI these things led to Huz becoming firmer in his resolve to convince me that two cats in one house cannot possibly stay. As for me, I was mostly to be found with a bottle of pet deodoriser in one hand and a bucket of water and a mop in the other.

IMG_0354 Demon kitty was unabashed in her exploration of furniture and bounded onto tables and counters with a casualness, agility and will which had never manifested in Fuzzy. But seeing her boldness, Fuzzy seemed to gain heart. He probably began to think that if she could do it, so could he. The final straw for me was when we realized Fuzzy had perched on the back of a chair and proceeded to empty his bladder. I didn’t really understand what I was dealing with were the signs of a very stressed cat. All he was doing of course was responding to perceived threats. His entire body language had changed and why wouldn’t it? He was being ambushed every day by demon kitty, his food was being gobbled by her, she was drinking from HIS WATER BOWL, his bed had been taken over, she was using HIS litter to do some extremely smelly poop in. I was guilty of ignoring all these things, expecting him to take it in stride while I was busy catering to the kitten’s needs.. His world had suddenly become unpredictable and chaotic. He was forced into persistent contact with another feline against his will. Of course this couldn’t go on! Fuzzy took to staying awake all night, keeping up an unbearably mournful dirge which woke me up from my sleep every couple of hours during the night. I was getting dark circles under my eyes and I couldn’t function like a normal human being anymore. You could safely say I was pretty stressed out myself.

I asked around for advice and all I heard was to keep the two cats apart….I had no idea how to accomplish this. But we had been dealing with Fuzzy’s peeing problems since way before the new kitty ever came along to exacerbate it. He was already neutered…what more could we do?? PAWS advised me to go to Dr Isma, the more upmarket vet in Karachi, for a consultation. I packed a very smelly Fuzzy into a basket and off we went.

Dr Isma was lovely. Just seeing the sympathetic expression on her face as she listened to my cat story was balm for my frazzled nerves. She pronounced Fuzzy to be an extremely stressed out cat indeed and there were only three options she could think of to deal with this unfortunate event: 1. To inject Fuzzy with female hormones. 2. To get a calming spray, like Feliway. 3. To administer an anti-depressant on a daily basis.

The first two options being overlooked perhaps due to unavailability or being expensive, Dr Isma recommended a quarter pill of an antidepressant called Clomfranil. We bought a few strips of these from a pharmacy on our way home, 20 rupees ($0.2) for a strip. Maybe I’d pop one or two myself.

That evening, I cut one pill into four uneven pieces and stuck the largest one into a piece of cat food. Fuzzy ate it. From a worried-looking anxious cat that paced relentlessly around the living room, I found him a little while later, stretched out languorously near the balcony door. There was no distressed yowling outside my bedroom door that night, and all the sheets of newspaper that we spread in all his usual spots were piss-free the next morning. The house didn’t smell foul, and Fuzzy was fast asleep peacefully on his wicker bench. My brain did a whoop of joy! My problems were solved!

Or were they?

(to be continued..)

p.s. All beautiful images taken by Amu ๐Ÿ™‚

New kitty on the block

After a warm meal of diluted milk with a spot of honey, little lost kitty received a nice rub-down with cotton wool soaked in Frontline spray and a clean cloth to get as much grease off as possible. I could tell she didn’t like the smell of the flea medicine, nor the feel of being wet, but she took it like a sport. Amu and I spent all day checking up on her and watching as she ran around and explored, dying fleas hopping off one by one. That night she spent outside, but safe and away from cold draughts in a big empty litter bag. The maternal instinct had already kicked in as Amu and I worried about the little kitty all night. Needless to say, we had already asked the chowkidar to keep an eye out for a motherly looking cat with babies. He said this one seemed most likely to have wandered into the parking lot from somewhere outside, though there have been a few cat births on the roof in the past.

The next day, and not without a little trepidation, we let Fuzzy (the resident cat) meet the newcomer. We stood alert, and though Fuzzy wasn’t as relaxed around her as we would have liked, nothing untoward happened. I began to get visions of a multiple cat household.

DSC_0347
Fuzzy follows kitty
DSC_0352
kitty marches up to Fuzzy unafraid
DSC_0356
Fuzzy backs away

DSC_0343 DSC_0345 DSC_0349 DSC_0350 DSC_0351 DSC_0355 DSC_0357 DSC_0358 DSC_0359 That afternoon, I gave the little kitty a much needed warm bath with shampoo, as I had noticed that she was quite smelly. I kept it quick so she wouldn’t catch a cold, drying her off with a soft towel and finishing up with a gentle blow-dry. Now she was fit to not only stay inside the house, but to curl up in what was to be her favoured perch for the next few weeks….our neck and shoulders. DSC_0364 DSC_0367DSC_0372 Fuzzy was most certainly not sure what to make of this development and stayed close, keeping a beady eye trained on the new entrant. I read up on how to introduce resident cats to new kittens and everything pointed to keeping the two separate initially and only slowly allowing them to interact. Separate litters, separate bowls for food and water, separate rooms. I rubbed kitty with a piece of cloth, then rubbed Fuzzy with it too, allowing their scents to intermingle. They could see each other through a glass door, but no touching for a few days. Then I let the door stay open a crack and the two cats played ‘pawsie’. But though I was optimistic about the two getting along eventually, I couldn’t possibly have been prepared for what happened in the following days and weeks. (to be continued) ย  ย 

Birdy

Of late I have been more prone to pick up my camera than my pen and have clicked a few pictures I’m going to start posting one by one on Mun-Zooms, my photo blog.ย 

I have also been busy OCDing, organizing and cleaning and dejunking cabinets, cupboards and drawers systematically.

As I dashed around the house, full of beans due to the Kundalini yoga my sister Fats made me do with her yesterday, I glimpsed a pigeon sitting on a ledge outside Amu’s window. It was trying to peer into the room with its beady orange eye, bobbing and tilting its head side to side. I couldn’t help stopping in my tracks and laughing a little, then scooted off to grab the camera from my room.

Just as I trained the lens on it and fiddled with the focus, wouldn’t you know it, it flapped its wings noisily and took off, so that particular pigeon lost its chance at being gawked at on my blog ๐Ÿ™‚

Then I remembered noticing a pigeon through the side of an open window on our landing, nesting in the building duct and since I had a camera in my hand, I stepped out to see if it was still there.

Thankfully it was, so my need to capture a pigeon today was fulfilled. Here’s one of the pics I took.

Dear readers of Munira’s bubble, do subscribe to Mun-Zooms if you haven’t already. There’s not much to read there, just photos, so go ahead, don’t be afraid ๐Ÿ˜› Plus, you’ll get to see the humungus version of this photo. FTW!

Farroo

Dear readers of ‘munira’s bubble’,

You must be a tad confounded at the mysterious lack of activity here, and I feel an explanatory post is due.

The reason for the absence has been my niece’s wedding, which had kept us all on our toes for the past month or so, the festivities and events of which finally drew to a close on the 26th of January.

Much as we enjoyed the preparations and the quests for matching shoes and jewellery, the shopping for materials and the trips to the tailors, the excitement over the bride’s clothes and accessories, the distribution of cards and the selection of gifts, attending all the various functions, eating copious amounts of rich food, and of course the countdown to the final event, the ‘rukhsati’…..I think I can speak for the whole family (with the exception of Amu, who didn’t want the wedding to end, ever) when I say that I feel light as a bird all of a sudden! *sighs with relief*

Farroo, my little sweetheart, is all grown up and married at 21. My sister Sax was 22 when she gave birth to her, and I was 18.

yes, i KNOW i had really weird hair :p

I could ramble at length about how much we looked forward to Sax’s visits, or the longing to go over to her place every day, just so we could hang out with Farroo, make her laugh and play, watch Sax as she gave her oil massages and baths, or just stare at her happily as she learnt to roll over, then sit up without support, crawl, and finally totter around on her own two legs.

I can tell you how distracted I was when Sax and Farroo came to Karachi for a visit during my A levels (they were in Islamabad at the time) and I couldn’t focus on my studies at all, so obsessed was I with spending time with my little dolly, and I totally attribute my terrible grades to her. But she was such a bundle of fun!

at the beach, around 1992?

We waited anxiously for photographs that Sax would mail regularly. Those were the days before digital cameras and computers, so her letters and phone calls and descriptions of Farroo’s antics were the only way we had of staying in touch, and it felt terribly devastating to miss out on so many precious months of her growth, her baby babble, her delightful laughter, her gorgeous little face, her soft curly hair.

Farroo in Islamabad ๐Ÿ™‚

They moved back and forth from Karachi to Islamabad over the course of the next few years, and there were more additions to the family along the way. Through all these events, we watched Farroo change as she grew from a cheerful little chatterbox, bouncing around after school in her ponytails, to a quieter little lady.

She’d love making things with her hands, painting, doing crafty little projects, displaying them proudly every time we went over, not saying much, but always around, listening to her aunts gossiping with her mom, giggling if she found something funny.

We marvelled over the cuteness of her pursuits, as she filled her room with Harry Potter memorabilia, composing letters of acceptance as a Hogwarts student, making trunks, a castle, a Snitch, Pygmy Puffs, wands and little potion bottles, pictures of James, Sirius, Harry, Ron and Hermione all over her walls along with her own, her friends and all her cousins (whom she is firmly bonded with.)

As her ‘Munni khala’, as she calls me, I could wax eloquent about the awesomeness that is my little Farroo, her creativity and attention to detail know no bounds. I wish I could share pictures of everything, tell you more stories about her, but I’m afraid that would be beyond the scope of this little blog post. That deserves a post of its own! So I’ll just skip to the part where Farroo decided to take time off from studying after her A levels, and during this ‘sabbatical’, she dabbled with translating Urdu books into English. Then, while the rest of her friends went on to go to college, Farroo applied for a job as a teacher at her old school….and got it.ย Being the youngest teacher at the school was both a challenge and a very cool thing. Her kids could relate to her, and loved her for her ‘funkiness’.

And once again, a metamorphosis occurred. Known for being shy, quiet and indecisive, teaching a bunch of unruly kids and dealing with parents and the responsibility of imparting education brought out hitherto unwitnessed qualities in Farroo. Here was a new Farroo, a more confident, quietly responsible, an ever more mature Farroo, someone who could take charge of situations. And to make a long story criminally short, it was around this time that she met the man she would end up marrying ๐Ÿ™‚

So it is with feelings of love, nostalgia and happiness for Farroo that I share with you my favourite pictures of her from the wedding. These were taken by Amu, my budding, talented photographer child, for whom Farroo is like an older sister ๐Ÿ™‚

time to get hands embellished with mehndi ๐Ÿ™‚

So off she goes now, on a new adventure in her life.

Farroo, if you’re reading this, I want you to know we’re going to miss you like hell!….what will we do without you around the house in your tshirt and jammies??? Your room should definitely be turned into a museum of Farroo’s artefacts though!

Sax, if you’re reading this…….*hugs*. I really don’t know what else to say to you, you who just married off her first-born, your best friend. I can’t imagine how much you guys will miss her. โค


How to keep one’s chin up when one misses one’s boat in Zanzibar

I still don’t know how it happened.

One minute we were sitting in an almost-deserted Forodhani Gardens, sipping cold drinks, chatting with a charming local trying to sell us some colorful scarves and watching the boats bobbing lazily in the water, andย Lulu ben was waving a cheerful goodbye to the Kenyan-Indian couples and the toddler, strolling off towards the ferry dock. We could see it from where we sat and were assured that the ferry WE were supposed to board to get back to Dar had not yet arrived, though it was getting closer to 4 pm….

Forodhani...deserted..(photo taken by Tina)
(photo taken by Tina)


The next minute we were jogging as fast as we could, with sinking hearts, towards the ferry dock!

The guy selling scarves jogged alongside Tina, keeping our morale up as we tried not to panic, but as we reached the dock where people were boarding ferries…….we realised ours had just left!

Tina and I were hot, a bit the worse for wear, and completely crestfallen. Our husbands were expecting us back from our day trip by evening, and it seemed from the frantic conversation Lulu ben was engrossed in with a porter that we could either take the midnight ferry (which would travel very slow and get us back to Dar around 6 am )…..or we could catch a plane.

(photo by Tina)

The clouds had gathered, finally providing some respite from the glaring sun, but Tina and I trudged dejectedly behind Lulu ben, (both worrying about how irresponsible our husbands would think we were) back to the ferry office to try and get a refund at least, an exercise in futility. The office was closing and as we walked out of there, it suddenly started to pour…

Lulu ben was busy making phone calls under the shelter of a porch roof. As our guide, she felt responsible for getting us back to Dar without further ado….

The pouring rain turned out to be just a passing shower, and as we stood around waiting for instructions from a friend, it seemed like a great idea to have some more coconuts. A coconut seller with baskets heaped with tiny coconuts stood a little distance away, and Tina gestured to him to bring us a couple.

Once again, Tina managed to cast her spell, and by the time we’d had our fill of coconuts, the coconut seller had declared his love for her and asked her to marry him…

We walked away from there, Tina laughing heartily as the poor rejected suitor stared after us, and made our way back to the Old Dispensary, which also happened to house the ticketing office for the airline.

Tired, our arms aching from the weight of the things we had bought, including a couple of kilos of an interesting Tanzanian fruit which Lulu ben insisted I take home with me, we hailed a cab which sped us to the Old Dispensary, the driver keeping our things safe in the car while he waited for us to buy our tickets.

So our trip ended where it began…..the Old Dispensary.

It was funny how differently one feels at the beginning of an adventure compared to how one feels towards the end. Though it was an interesting twist in the storyline, nevertheless it was unsettling to have missed the ferry. On top of it, I felt bad for Tina that she didn’t get to have the beachy Zanzibar experience she had probably anticipated.

Tina and I being foreigners ended up paying twice as much for our tickets as Lulu ben, adding insult to injury. But our drive to the airport was pleasant and ourย cabbie was a decent, soft-spoken man, very polite and well-mannered, getting us there just in time for our flight.

I thought I must have looked frightful, my hair a mess, my face sunburnt, my white clothes stained brown with coconut water and some mysterious yellow blotches that appeared to have leaked from the bags of fruit I had been hugging to me as I ran…

the errant wives ๐Ÿ˜›

All’s well that ends well though, and I suppose we would never have witnessed the beautiful seascape between Zanzibar and Dar es Salam from the air, a ride that took us all of twenty minutes. We reached Dar around the same time as we would have if we hadn’t missed the blasted ferry.

sky, cloud
Dar coastline nears...
Dar!

back! safe and sound.

Ah well, at least I managed to buy four colourful scarves for 10000 shillings before missing the boat ๐Ÿ™‚

Stone Town in grayscale

We continued to wander around Stone Town after leaving Lulu ben’s place and saw some more beautiful buildings…

mosque premises

buildings

windows

We walked through the fish market, which was full of interesting Indian Ocean sea creatures but which quite overpowered the olfactory senses.

fresh octopus
dried octopus

We wandered through the stalls laden with packaged aromatic spices, and I picked up packets of vanilla and cinnamon…some for me, some as gifts…

vegetables (the okra was/were huge!)
bananas? plantain?

The midday sun was making us very hot and the sight of coconuts being expertly sliced at a corner made us stop and have a few, despite Lulu ben’s concern about all of us needing a loo afterwards. They were deliciously cool and sweet, and we drank straight from the coconuts, quenching our thirst most delightfully, scooping out the soft, translucent flesh with spoons carved from the husk itself.

I could have easily had twenty of those little coconuts. Wish I could have taken pictures, but my hands were sticky and I was too preoccupied ๐Ÿ™‚

We ate platefuls of something they simply call ‘Mix’, which is basically a concoction of fried lentil ‘bhajias’ soaked in a yogurt based curry, spicy and lemony, with a liberal sprinkling of crunchy crisps, made by an old Kutchi-Memon lady by the name of Sughra.

We chatted with two young Kenyan-Indian couples who had been on the same ferry as us in the morning and apparently had no hang-ups about being appropriately dressed in a conservative place. We laughed sympathetically as one of the couples dealt with their two yr old in the throes of a fizzy drink demanding tantrum.

We meandered through another part of Stone Town where there were quaint souvenir shops here and there and we stopped to peruse these before making our way over to the street that led to the ferry dock.

I spent too much time comparing prices of goods from one shop to the next (and they really DID vary rather dramatically at times) but Lulu ben and Tina (much to their credit) hardly betrayed any impatience. The only thing I ended up buying was a colourful painting of Masaai tribesmen which I haggled over rather satisfactorily, asked the shopkeeper to take it off the canvas frame and roll it up as fast as he could, walking out of the shop triumphantly, one souvenir richer, 15000 Tanzanian shillings poorer. Not a bad deal at all!

(It now hangs, nicely framed, on my living room wall.)

shop

It was 3:35 as we walked out of Stone Town and made our way over to a deserted Forodhani in the afternoon. The ferry was to leave at 4 pm, so we bought some cold soft drinks and found a place to relax for a bit and enjoy the sea view before heading over to the ferry that would take us back to Dar…

(to be continued..)

The streets of Dar es Salam

I realize pictures are really important in conveying the feel of a place (duh!) so this post is going to show you what Dar es salam looks like. Well, parts of it ๐Ÿ™‚ These pictures, as you can guess, were taken just before the plane landed at the lush green airport….

aerial perspective 1
aerial perspective 2

Quite green, huh? Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wait till I blog about the drive from Dar es Salam to Morogoro and Mikumi…

But for now, dear readers, here’s the view as seen from a deck-chair near the horizon pool at the fabulous Kilimanjaro Kempinski. It overlooks a harboured inlet where ferries ply the waters to and from nearby islands, and even ones as far as Zanzibar. The thing that struck me most during my entire two-week stay in Tanzania had to be the sky. Hmmm…..that could be a whole other post….

For now, suffice it to say that I spent a lot of my time cloud-gazing ๐Ÿ™‚

After spending a lazy afternoon doing just that, it was necessary to go forth and explore the area around the hotel. I trudged out in sneakers with my Nikon D3100 (I hadn’t even learned to use it properly apart from pointing and shooting yet!) slung around my neck and Huz by my side and this is some of what I saw…

just around the corner..
a corner mosque down town
roasting corn
waiting...?
buildings down town

One of the easiest ways to mark yourself out as a tourist, cos’ no one else walked around with a humungus camera around THIS area. I got quite a few curious stares and not too many smiles, but I marched on intrepidly nevertheless. People weren’t too happy about being photographed, though I found Tanzanian faces to be striking in their features, and by the time I spotted these three kids standing in the middle of the road, smiling and waving and asking to be photographed, I had got the vaguest impression that the locals were either unfriendly or indifferent.

they called out when they saw my camera

Flame of the forest on the streets of Dar es Salam
Street chess

And who WERE these women? Where were they going? What did they do? I didn’t dare let on I was taking a picture of them, lest I offend their sensibilities.

And no, I didn’t sample the octopus with pili pili. I’m at once attracted and repelled by the sight of this tentacled edible creature of the sea, but can’t imagine giving it a shot, not even in the fanciest restaurant, let alone from a guy selling it on the streets :p

blech

old building

new building

But this, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me, was the freakiest coincidence. Of all the places, Godfrey had to stop (on our way out of Dar es Salam) to find a cobbler to mend Huz’s shoe (the sole was coming loose) it had to be outside this shop. And no, we didn’t buy anything there. ๐Ÿ˜›