In which I steal someone's dead cat and someone else's live dog

Three and a half years ago, my mom sold her house in Florida and moved permanently to Waycross. She brought eleven cats with her. Ten of them adapted with no problem. One of them, an adorable tortishell semi-feral named Whiskey did not. She was so panicked by the move that she ripped the siding off the window A/C unit (this was before mom had central heat and air installed) and escaped. We were unable to find her. Since then, my mom has carried Whiskey's picture in her (er, my) car, and even answered "found cat" ads in hopes of finding her. Just yesterday, she told me that a few months ago she had seen Whiskey on a road roughly a mile and a half from her house. She said that she'd gotten out and compared the markings of the cat with the photograph and they matched exactly. However, Whiskey had reverted to full feral mood, and ran off when my mom approached. I didn't really believe her; I thought it was wishful thinking.

This morning, as I was headed to mom's house to pick up Brin before going out to ride, I saw a dead tortishell lying in the road. It was exactly where mom said she'd seen Whiskey, and I knew it was her. I stopped the car, got out, scooped her up, and took her with me. [I do admit the absurdity in this; I know if anyone saw me stop, collect the dead cat, and then drive on, they must've thought I was completely bonkers.] I compared the cat with the photograph (still in the car), and it seemed to me that it was her. It seemed so horrible that she could've lived so close for three and a half years, only to be reunited with us (and her four siblings) in death.

Whiskey's photo and the dead cat in a box

I was feeling really bummed when I took Brin out to the land to feed/ride the horses. I was also musing on the sickly stray dogs which had shown up the other day, only to vanish... then I pulled up to the gate, and who should be on the other side of the fence but Beagley Dog! He and Brin played together like long lost friends, and then the two of them followed me and Honey out on our ride.

Beagley's back!!

Honey was wonderful. Unlike that cantakerous (yet beautiful) beast, Merlin, Honey was easy to catch and behaved fabulously throughout the ride. She, the dogs, and I didn't go too far. We rode to a nearby pond that my mom and I discovered when we were out riding the other day, took some pictures, and rode back. There's something really wonderful about being out in the woods on a beautiful day, on a horse, accompanied by dogs.

"Are you gonna ride me, or just stand there taking stupid pictures?"

Approaching the pond, with Brin


Pond!


More pond, with Beagley and Brin


Merlin was waiting for us when we returned.

When Brin and I got in the car to leave, Beagley Dog wanted to come, too. I put him back in the field and locked the gate, but the bars in the gate are spaced pretty far apart, and he was able to pop right out and start chasing me down the road. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him out there, all alone, without even Stinky Hound for company... so I stopped and he got in the car too. I brought him to my mom's house (where he promptly revealed his deathly fear of cats) and stuck him in the back yard with Blackie and Ursa. Initially, he was pretty intimidated by them, and slunk off into a corner with his tail between his legs. But less than an hour later, he and Blackie were playing together like old chums, and soon thereafter, I shot this photo of the three of them sleeping together in the sun:

Blackie, Ursa and Beagley

When mom came home from work, we set about burying Whiskey. I had dug the hole, and mom brought out the body. We decided to compare it with the photograph one last time... and found something I hadn't noticed before: one minor and yet very important discrepancy in their colorations. It wasn't Whiskey! (Although mom admits that it was the cat she'd seen recently.) So, it turns out that I stole someone's dead cat - although at least they'll just think she ran away, and won't be the ones finding her broken body on the road. We buried Not-Whiskey in our pet cemetery nonetheless.

Mostly about animals, but some other stuff, too

These two tabbies are two of the many semi-ferals who eat at my house.
These two are kittens, maybe a little older than Heelix

Unfortunately, their hobby is destroying these chairs. Granted, I hate these chairs and I put them on my front porch in the hope that someone would steal them... but no one's going to run off with them now!

My front porch - and my back yard - are home to at least three possums. Here's one.

Possum in action!

Again, my mom and I volunteered at the Waycross College booth at the Okefenokee Agricultural fair like we did last year. The fair was much more interesting this year, with many more animals.

Mom in her booth

This was right across from the booth...
Isn't this the sort of nonsense that caused our financial crisis to begin with?

The fair at night

Carousel!

Funnel cake! Heaven!

The sweetest Donkey ever!

Alpaca!

Some very conversational hogs

Dude riding the mechanical bull

HorseCam! Taken while I was riding Honey

We get to dodge hunters, as it's hunting season.
See the guy in blaze orange on the pile of logs?

We also get to dodge dismembered deer carcasses

But the scenery is pleasant.

And here's mom, riding Merlin :-)

Censorship on YouTube?

Remember when I went to the eagle festival and there were wolf-hounds fighting a chained wolf? I shot a video of the wolf fighting the dogs and posted it on YouTube, with a warning that it was graphic and with my opinion that this was a particularly horrific aspect to the otherwise incredible festival. I wasn’t posting it in order to glorify dog fighting or dog-n-wolf fighting, but to show how things are in modern Kyrgyzstan. Apparently it was deemed unacceptable by YouTube. When I logged in this afternoon in order to upload the videos in the below post, I received this message:

The following video(s) from your account have been disabled for violation of the YouTube Community Guidelines:

Dogs fight a chained wolf (warning: graphic) - (janekeeler)

Your account has received one Community Guidelines warning strike, which will expire in six months. Additional violations may result in the temporary disabling of your ability to post content to YouTube and/or the termination of your account.For your reference, a copy of this message has also been emailed to the address associated with this account.

I never did receive that email; no doubt it was funneled into my spam box.

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, the images depicted in the video are pretty horrible. On the other hand, that’s what goes on in modern-day Kyrgyzstan. Unlike the US where dog-fighting is something people gather illegally in basements to do, this was one of the main events in a large festival put on by the Krgyzstan Ministry of Tourism. The purpose of my blog (when I’m overseas, at least) is to give readers an accurate glimpse of what life is like wherever I happen to be. Anyone interested in going to Kyrgyzstan should be aware of the fact that animal rights simply do not exist. As such, I feel in part that by removing the video, YouTube has done its users a disservice. What do you think?

Animal Vlogging :-)

I've got a few cute animal videos to share with you today. The first one is Brin (our brindle-colored pit bull) licking the head of Ruffy, one very large, fluffy black cat.

Honey was supposed to be delivered on Friday, but as rain is predicted for Friday, her owners decided to bring her out yesterday instead. Merlin’s reaction to having a mare (in heat, no less) in his field was hilarious; it was as though he had forgotten that he was no longer a stallion. He worked himself into a sweat showing off for and chasing poor Honey, who – despite being in heat – didn’t seem too thrilled by all the attention. I’m going to give them a few days to get used to one another before I try riding Honey in her new home. In the meantime, here’s a video of their initial meeting:

Last night, as I was in bed reading, I heard a noise on the front porch. Thinking it might be cat wanting in, I went to the window and peeked out. Well, it wasn't a cat. This was what I saw:

Obstreperous beasts, stinky beasts and electricians

Well, I didn’t get the job at the animal shelter. Even though it was a minimum wage job, over 100 people applied (says a lot about the economy in Waycross) – I was lucky just to be one of the 20 selected for an interview. On the one hand, it’s probably a good thing that I didn’t get the job, as part of my duties would’ve been assisting in the euthanasia of feral cats. On the other hand, I have literally NO money. Kyrgyzstan was definitely worth it, but unfortunately, now I am really, really poor. I can’t even afford to turn the gas on in my house, and as I have gas heat and a gas stove, that kinda sucks.

Meanwhile, I’ve been filling my days by taking care of animals. We don’t pick up Honey (“my” horse) until Friday morning, but there’s still Merlin (mom’s horse) to feed and ride. Merlin – a gorgeous white Arab – alternates between being wonderful and being simply ornery. When you ride out on him he can be stubborn – he doesn’t like to leave his “security blanket” field behind. I’ve been riding him regularly, trying to get him past his stubbornness. It’s actually been a lot of fun… until this morning when I couldn’t catch him at all. And as soon as I gave up and sat down, he wandered right over, rubbing my nose in it. Boo.


Me, riding Merlin on Saturday

Mom on Merlin

He *is* beautiful!

Mom had told me that I could catch him by sneaking the lead rope behind my back then slipping it around his neck. I was told that he would then walk easily to the barn. Hah! We stood there for a good 30 minutes.
As soon as I sat down and put my feet up, he wandered over to the barn!
Last night when I went out to the field to feed Merlin, two scrawny hunting dogs wandered up, a beagle and a hound dog. They’d probably simply gotten separated from their hunters, but as they were so skinny and pathetic looking, I went and got them some food. They were waiting for me when I went out there this morning. I may have just acquired two more unneeded – and stinky – canine friends. They smell like they found the rotting carcass of something and rolled in it.



Speaking of stray dogs, remember the starving pit bull puppies I found when I was home around this time last year? Well, the girl dog (Brownie) ran off sometime during the past year, but the boys Brinny and Blackie are still around. Brin has been a bit of a trouble maker – running off and getting picked up by the animal shelter and biting an old lady who lives down the street from my mom. This means that he now has to be a house dog, in order to keep him from getting into trouble. You’d think having a pit bull in a house full of cats would be nothing but trouble, but he’s *wonderful* with the cats. As soon as I get some high-speed internet going, I’ll upload an adorable video of Brin licking the head of one of the cats, and a hilarious video of a different cat intimidating him into a corner. Anyway, Brin always goes out to the field with me when I feed and ride Merlin, and he loves just running around out there. Hunters (they’re not supposed to hunt out by my mom’s land, but they do) are always leaving behind bits and pieces of deer and hog carcasses which Brin LOVES to pick up and run around with. We’ve had some arguments over whether or not he’s allowed to bring decaying hog spines into my car! I hope he gets along with Slinker and Stinker, assuming they stay out there.


Brin :-)
What else? The Bishkek cats are doing wonderfully here in Waycross, and the local cats are starting to adapt to their presence. Additionally, Daddy Cat (who must weigh 35lbs by now), Mary Cat and Alley Cat are shoving the Bishkek Four aside to get snuggle-space next to me on the bed. Meanwhile, the house is surrounded by numerous semi-ferals who show up for mealtimes, demanding fodder. I swear I’m in competition with the animal shelter.


Alley Cat

Heelix

Look how much of the shyrdak Alley Cat takes up...

...now look how much of it Daddy Cat fills!

These two cuties, Tabby 1 and Tabby 2, are semi-feral
This morning it was pretty chilly in my house, and I turned on my two space heaters (since I can’t run my gas heat) and about an hour later, half of the electricity in my house shut off. I assumed that a breaker had tripped, but when I checked them, they were all still “on.” So, we called an electrician who came out this afternoon. Turns out that one of my breakers *had* switched off, but had remained stuck in the “on” position. Sigh. But, while the electricians were at my house, I got them to crank up the thermostat on my water heater (hot showers!) and install a new, non-flickering light on my front porch.

I’ve been working on cleaning up my house after a year of disuse, and I plan to do some work on it to get it ready to sell. Not that anyone will want to buy it given our current financial situation, but I should at least get it ready.

I bought a horse!

Well, technically my mom bought her, and we won't actually be getting her until next week, but still! She's not any particular breed or anything, but when I rode her she was perfect (she'll probably never be that well-behaved again), doing everything I asked instantaneously, including cantering. Her name is Honey; I hope she and Merlin get along :-)

Joe's Trippin'

My friend and former coworker in Kyrgyzstan, Joe, has a superfabulous blog which all of you should read. He's been to nearly all of the Stans and takes exceptional photographs. Check him out!

Since I've been home

My mom and I had initially planned to “test-drive” a horse in Macon on our way home from the Atlanta airport. Unfortunately, its owner had to work on Monday, so we didn’t get the chance to do so. I hope to have the opportunity to check it out later this month. We did, however, have the dubious pleasure of trying out a four-year-old nag out in Blackshear (about 20 minutes east of Waycross). The poor horse had been “trained” by a girl who was 14 at the most and who obviously knew nothing about how to train a horse. It definitely had potential, but would’ve required a LOT of work. And the poor thing was pretty ugly.


Mom, riding the Blackshear nag
When you compare him to my mom’s beautiful Arabian, Merlin, well, it’s like comparing apples and oranges. Or perhaps fresh apples and rotten ones.


Merlin!

A closer look...
Merlin lives out on my mom’s land, which is literally in the middle of nowhere – no one lives out there but him. In order to make it look as though someone was living out there with him (to deter people from harassing him and whatnot), my mom purchased a supercool trailer to keep out there. Now, before you go thinking that the phrase “supercool trailer” is an oxymoron, check this baby out:



It’s a 1951 Spartan Royal Mansion, filled with nearly all of its early 1950s “space-age” accoutrements. And I would LOVE to live in it. Unfortunately, it needs a bit of work – not to mention that my mom’s land has no electricity or running water. (It has a hand-pumped well to water the horse and that’s it.) But we’ll see. If I can get the stove to operate on propane and can build a solar-generator for the refrigerator, it might very well be doable.

What else? On Tuesday, I called about a job at the local animal shelter, and learned that I needed to have my application in by 2pm. I didn’t have a drivers license yet (y’all remember when it got stolen back in K-stan?), and seriously considered biking to the shelter... but it was raining and I wasn’t 100% certain where the shelter was located, so I snagged my mom’s car (she was at work with mine) and drove in to apply... taking care so to break no traffic laws! I’ve since had one follow-up interview, and might very well be gainfully employed soon.

After leaving the animal shelter, I drove over to my voting precinct and explained about my lack of absentee ballot, and was able to get approved to vote.


The sticker on my shirt says "I'm a Georgia Voter"
I wasn’t able to stay up listening to the election coverage, as I was completely exhausted and still running on Kyrgyz time... but I woke up just in time to hear Obama’s acceptance speech, which made me cry with joy. Literally.

The next day, mom drove me to the DMV to get a replacement drivers license. There is a man who works at the DMV who is thoroughly unpleasant. When my mom went there to switch from a FL to a GA drivers license, he essentially accused her of being a terrorist for not bringing a passport or other form of ID with her. When I first got my GA license, he nearly made a woman cry by yelling at her... and she was there to get a replacement license because she’d lost hers. I have been stressing about dealing with this man ever since my license was stolen back in May. I needn’t have worried, as luckily, he wasn’t there. Five dollars later, I had a new drivers license. Complete with this ridiculous red hair, which I will bear on my ID through 2011 :-)


Not much going on right now otherwise. I’m suffering through my mom’s dial-up internet (although I think I’ve convinced her to upgrade to DSL), cleaning my house (which, having been under the control of innumerable cats over the past year, is an utter mess), and waiting to hear back from the animal shelter.

Adventures of an International Cat Lady

Traveling from Bishkek to Waycross with four cats – while definitely worth it – was probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done. I’ve already described the whole rigmarole I had to go through in Bishkek to get permission to take my cats out of Kyrgyzstan. That was just the beginning.


Ben overlooks my pile of possessions
At 2:30 Sunday morning, a taxi (driven by Anatoli the Awesome) came to the school to pick up me, my various feline and non-feline possessions and Ben. (Ben came along to help me carry things and to laugh at the absurdity of what I was doing.) We got to the airport at 3am only to learn that check in for my flight wouldn’t begin for another hour. This was actually fine, as it gave me plenty of time to take the cats (or more specifically, their paperwork) to the Veterinary Control desk in order to receive even more stamped government forms from someone who didn’t so much as look at the cats.

Meanwhile, I should definitely mention that the instant we hopped out of the car we were descended upon by a dude with a cart who charged an exorbitant fee for use of said cart ($50!) but with four cats, two suitcases and a backpack it seemed worth it. He also tried to convince me that my money was also paying for him to call his brother on the other side of the security check in who would make sure that I had no problems getting the cats checked in. I didn’t believe that for an instant. Cart Guy was actually quite helpful, until he put Grey Cat through the x-ray machine. Ooops. But that comes later.


Kitties in Manas International Airport
While waiting to check in, the cats provided entertainment to numerous children who wanted nothing more than to poke their fingers into the carriers in an attempt to pet (er, poke) my cats. The kitties were surprisingly well-behaved and tolerant of all this nonsense.

In order to check in at Bishkek’s Manas Airport, first you must go through a narrow door, then through a security check. This means that as soon as check in for your flight begins, you and everyone else on that flight immediately must rush like mad for the narrow door, pushing and shoving at will. Yay, civilization. Cart Guy, Anatoli, Ben and I forced our way to the front and got me and all my crap through the narrow door. That was when Cart Guy put Grey Cat on the conveyer belt, which whisked her into the baggage x-ray machine before I could do anything to stop it. People began screaming at me (“You’re going to kill your pet!”) and I started shouting at Cart Guy while frantically pulling the other three carriers off the conveyer belt where he’d put them. Grey Cat had already been scanned, but I had to take the other three out one at a time and carry them through the metal detector while their carriers were put through the x-ray.

Once the cats, my suitcases and I were through security, I got to explain to some very friendly customs guys why I was taking four breed-less street cats home with me. (I must’ve had at least 6 different people ask “But don’t you have street cats in America?”) The customs guys actually seemed quite impressed when I told them that the cats were my responsibility and I couldn’t just abandon them. Although perhaps they were more impressed with my ability to explain all that in Russian.

After customs examined all my cat paperwork I was finally able to check in. First I had to pay $401 in excess baggage fees, which I’d expected. Well, I’d expected $400, and while I had more with me, the smallest bill I had was a $50, and of course they didn’t have change. Luckily I had $1 worth of soms left, and they let me pay with those.

Then I was instructed to leave my three cats (the ones going in checked baggage) on the floor in front of a random-seeming elevator. I had to leave them sitting there, mewing pathetically, as Lucy (the cat who came on the plane with me) and I went off in the other direction to go through yet another security check. I was quite worried that I would arrive in Atlanta 30+ hours later and Grey Cat, Bagira and Heelix would still be sitting in their carriers in front of that elevator door.

Lucy was wonderful during the trip. She had to be taken out of her carrier at least six times and she never put up a fight or caused any problems. She was quite quiet during our journey, and managed to keep from peeing or pooping until we checked into a hotel room south of Atlanta. God knows how she achieved that feat; I sure didn’t!

Anyway, we arrived in Moscow 5 hours after leaving Bishkek, and we then spent seven and a half hours waiting around for our flight. So boring. I remember back when I used to think Moscow’s Sheremetevo was exotic… but after Bishkek’s Manas, Sheremetevo is boringly mundane.


Boredom in Sheremetevo
The flight to New York was 10 hours long, and we left 30 minutes late. Then, when we got to New York’s JFK, we sat on the runway for a good 45 minutes before we were able to disembark. My layover had been only two and a half hours long to begin with, and I was very worried that I wouldn’t make my connection. I ran through immigration and was one of the first people to claim their bags (both of which arrived). Then I asked where I could find my cats… and the woman in charge of baggage claim info told me the wrong place to go to! I was standing there, waiting for my cats to appear, watching my fellow passengers all leaving, fearing that Bagira, Grey Cat and Heelix were all still sitting in front of that elevator door in Manas, when I heard the distant sound of cats crying. I went in search, and found them on the other side of the room from where I’d been instructed to wait! They were overjoyed to see me, and I was thoroughly relieved to find them.

I stacked my cats and suitcases on top of a cart and wheeled them through customs – who didn’t even look at their paperwork! All that paperwork to get them out of Kyrgyzstan and to bring them in I apparently needed nothing. Weird.

I went to re-deposit my baggage on the other side of customs and was told that I’d actually have to go out to the Delta check-in counter to drop off the cats. At this point I had a mere 40 minutes. Let’s just say that there was a lot of frantic running around, and we barely made the plane.

In Atlanta, the cats were there, but only one of my suitcases. I didn’t really care; I knew the missing suitcase had made it as far as New York, and all I cared about was having the cats safe. I met my mom at baggage claim, and we drove to just south of Macon before stopping at a motel and collapsing from exhaustion. We got to Waycross Monday afternoon.


Heelix confronts Daddy Cat through the screen door
The cats seem to have had no problem adjusting to their new home, although the cats which already lived there are somewhat put out that these interlopers are snuggled up on what they consider to be *their* bed :-)

In which I get proposed to in a scary basement vet clinic

Today I had to take my kitty passports to various places in orderto get the Bishkek Four approved for transport. My first destination was Orozbekova 253, way the hell north of town. I didn't know where exactly, just that it was north of town and a long way from the school. I took a taxi. The taxi driver had to stop and consult his map numerous times, but eventually he dropped me off at what looked like an old Russian-style wooden house, surrounded by a chain-link fence. The yard was filled with cars in various states of disrepair. It didn't look very much like the sort of place where one goes to get kitty passports validated!

There were several men in the yard taking a smoke break, so I approached them and explained what I needed. One of them told me to follow him, and began leading me downstairs to the basement of this ancient house. Not exactly the safest-feeling situation! However, it turned out that in the basement was a vet clinic, while the upstairs was some kind of vet school. The basement was dark (they had no electricity) and dank and reeked of chemicals. There was an ancient metal table with an IV at one end in the center of the room, and nothing else, and it looked like some kind of psychpath's private torture chamber from a horror flick. Unlike my shiny, well-lit vet clinic on Sovietskaya, which is staffed by three jolly, rotund Russian women, this clinic was staffed by numerous skinny Kyrgyz men. The skinny Kyrgyz man who needed to validate my passport wasn't there when I arrived, so they asked me to sit down and wait. While I waited, I got to chat with one of the vets. He was very nice and suggested that I marry him so he could go to the US. I told him that I planned to continue traveling; he said that didn't matter, he loved to travel. But he likes rap music and doesn't like cats - it would never work. As I waited, a young man carried in a Rottweiler with something wrong with its leg. They tied it to the scary table in the middle of the room and began operating sans anasthetic. I snuck a photo.

Then the man I needed to see arrived. He looked over my kitty passports, stamped them and then completed several kitty-export-from-K-stan forms. He said it was a pity I was leaving so soon, or else he'd get to know me and then perhaps I could have a Kyrgyz husband, hint, hint. Apparently all the eligible bachelors hang out in the scary basement at Orozbekova 253!

But my day was not over. From Orozbekova 253 I had to travel to another out-of-the-way office: the State Veterinary Department, located at Budenosh 247, where the forms completed by the vet at Orozbekova had to be stamped by some other government official. He was really confused as to why I was taking mixed breed street cats home ("Surely there are street cats in America?"), but stamped all my paperwork nontheless.

As I wandered out of the State Veterinary Department, wondering how the hell I was going to find transport back to civilization, I heard a voice shout, "Jane! Hello!" and turned around to see Elmira, a student I taught for my first five months in K-stan, but whom I hadn't seen since. Apparently she lives across the street from the State Veterinary Department. I talked to her for a little while, and she helped me find the correct marshrutka to take me back to the London School.

Today's adventures were both mundane and absurd. And the kind of stuff that I'm going to miss when I'm back in the "real world." I leave on Sunday!!