This post is for Caleb, my little cat lover. We are in a city with rich history, amazing old buildings, sights and sounds we’ve never seen before and all he wants me to do is take pictures of the stray cats we see in the streets. It’s kind of like when we took Calvin to Sea World when he was 2 and his biggest excitement all day was when he started screaming, “Duck! Duck!” as we walked by a random pond on our way out of the Shamu show.
We went on a 1/2 hour walk around our neighborhood and saw at least 25 cats. These are not pet cats, they are scrawny, dirty, trash rummaging cats. But Caleb sees one and says, “Mom! We can take it home with us and then it can be a friend for Daisy!” Um, no baby. I’m not going anywhere near these cats.
Now imagine me trying to subtly take pictures of these cats. I already know I stand out as a crazy American with my crew of blond haired children and a baby strapped to my back. I can only imagine what the Egyptians thought as they saw the white lady with her camera pointed at cat infested piles of trash . . . but he was so excited about all these gross cats, I couldn’t bear to say no.
We passed one trash barrel that had 4 cats rummaging around in it. One was in the process of yacking something up, and two other got in a hissing, spitting brawl over said yack. Seriously. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
This one was begging at the cafe where we had lunch. She kept running around under the different tables crying for scraps. The boys wanted to pet her, but I reminded them that she is the reason why they had to endure 3 rabies shots each before we left, ha ha.
This one almost looked cute and less dirty and mangy than the other ones we saw. But we’re not getting a cat — Caleb will have to settle for pictures of cats.