First things first, my eldest cat; yes, my eldest (human children are somewhere on the horizon as of yet), had visited Nanjing long before I did, albeit sat waiting on the tarmac of Lukou International Airport in the hold of the diverted 747.
This was 2 years before I was able to call this city home; my sole feline child at the time was in Nanjing without me due to the horrendous thunder, lightning and torrential rain that plagues this part of the Middle Kingdom every summer. Meanwhile, I was sat waiting in Nantong, somewhat full of worry; the cat and my partner diverted further up the Yangtze to wait out the typhoon wreaking havoc above me.
Slipper, named so as the tiny and adorable rescue kitten used to crawl into my slippers and sleep there (apologies for the smell), has been with us for over 6 years now.
Much like my original plan of staying in China for no more than a year, we never planned on taking on a pet, but she entered our lives in Chengdu and melted our hearts instantly.
We practically hand raised her, waking up every other hour to bottle feed her and clean her (she couldn’t even climb into her litter box; she was that small and precious). So, when I refer to her as my eldest, she really is. She even still sleeps with the same pink blanket that we used when we rescued her; it has been washed, I promise.
It hasn’t always been such a positive and romanticised experience as a “cat dad”; when we took Slipper to get spayed, I mean it when I say that it was like something out of a horror film. After being given a general anaesthetic, the cuteness of having her tongue peeking out of her mouth soon dissipated when we were given the option of watching the surgery through clear Perspex glass.
The vet even proudly showed off Slipper’s removed ovaries and uterus to us through the glass; needless to say, there was no liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti for a while after that.
Vet trips are still a nightmare for me, so it’s been a blessing that some offer home visits for cats’ annual vaccinations.
When we decided to leave Chengdu in 2021 and relocate to Nantong, it was obvious Slipper would join us in the move. As we packed up our belongings, she was oblivious to what was going on, but she did seem to enjoy hiding in every single box we packed. If she could have hidden away in a box of books or cutlery, she would have. Despite being diverted to Nanjing (and adding on at least another 4 hours of waiting and travel time), Slipper was proudly the first passenger off the plane, going around the carousal while all others stood waiting gloomily and restless for their luggage to arrive.
My youngest, Mickey, was once again an unexpected and “unplanned” addition.
He joined our little family only a mere month in to our tenure in Nantong, meaning that our UK-Sichuan clan was completed by a Jiangsunese. He was on death’s door when we found him, or he found us, as his poorly and starving cries stopped us dead in our tracks as we carried home our latest online shopping purchases. His overly large ears and sharp, thin face (no longer thin anymore; he’s a real chonk now) reminded us a certain cartoon mouse; hey presto, Mickey!
When we first brought him home, and after giving him a quick wipe down wash, we realised he wasn’t in the best of shape. Stick thin and barely able to walk, our local vet warned us that he might not survive the week. Mickey became quite the regular in that vet’s clinic; costing us a small fortune with his innumerous tests, check ups and medicine galore. But we, and Mickey himself, persevered and he finally started to work his way up to a healthy weight.
He didn’t stop there… He’s now a healthy, chubby and incredibly needy cat, living, and annoying his elder sister, in Nanjing.
When the time came for Mickey to get neutered, flashbacks plagued me of being shown removed organs, and I really felt sorry for the little lad.
I opted out of that particular excursion to the vets but made sure that his Elizabethan collar was ready at hand when he returned home.
Having two cats hasn’t always been hunky dory living in China. Being on the other side of the country from my in laws, and not wanting to bother my colleagues, has meant that travelling for more than a long weekend away; hiking around Hunan last summer and then finally back to the U.K. this past summer, has meant that we’ve had to find “cat hotels”.
This entailed visiting the pussycat pads beforehand, almost going through an interview-like process with the would-be carers.
Fresh and clean water daily? Check. Litter cleaning when needed? Check. Lots of fuss and bothering the cats? Check check.
Food provided? No! Predominantly, most of the cat hotels we’ve visited (and booked our pampered pusses into) have required that bags of cat biscuits, meat and other treats we brought in with the cats; and they can be very picky with what actual brands are being eaten. One specific cat hotel back in Nantong refused to house Slipper as at the time she ate Whiskas cat biscuits; Mickey was on a special gastroenteritis specific diet at the time on vet’s orders! That all meant that if we had chosen that particular cattery, the “sick” cat would have been allowed to stay, but the healthy” cat not… all because of the brand of biscuits!
We quickly went onto the next “interview” and all’s well that ends well; we enjoyed our couple of weeks sweating away in Hunan in the middle of July, while Slipper and Mickey lapped up 2 weeks of luxury, with all the mods cons included.
We’ve made promises to ourselves that we won’t let another ball of fur sway us over and “trick” us into rescuing them; but for the time being we’re happy to be the shit shovelers (chǎn shǐ guān; 铲屎官) in our own house, or the cats’ house if we would believe them, as well as living the fat cat lifestyle (māo féi jiā rùn; 猫肥家润) for the foreseeable future.
