The Kitty Chronicles

One day while on the way back home from work I was rudely interrupted from my thoughtful 20 minute bus journey mode by the ringing of my phone. I had made clear to all that I was not to be called unless there was some matter of extreme urgency since I was on German roaming charges while in Geneva.

‘Ritze!’ (my Sicilian roommate was unable to pronounce my name, so I was given this Italian twist)
‘Yes? Is everything okay’ (I immediately recognized both the voice and the sense of disaster)
‘Sorry to disturb-ay you like-ay this-ay’ (my roommate spoke with a marked Italian accent) ‘but-ay the stupid-ay cat did a KAKA (kaka is italian for shit) in front of our doors!!’

We were two interns in Geneva that summer amongst hordes of others trying to get something gainful out of the experience. She was desperately hunting for a contract and so was usually not amused very easily and mostly tended to be very serious. We were both living in the apartment of an old Swiss lady who was between 60 and 65 but had acquired a taste for young African men. Our fourth flatmate was Citronelle, the overfed 10 year old cat. Actually the word cat is an understatement for this fine feline specimen. It could actually be described as a lazy, small sized tiger.

‘The Crisis Develops’

‘Kaka? What do you mean?’
‘Kaka I mean-ay shit! The cat did shit in front of our door and I want our stupid-ay land lady’s number so I can tell her! Do you have her number?’
‘Well let me see…..actually I don’t since she doesn’t speak a word of English so I don’t ever talk to her. I have her son’s number. You want that?’
‘Okay then Ritze give me that-ay. I am gonna really give it to him!’
‘Uhhh well, just wait for me to get home okay? And we will figure this out. Okay?’

I gave the son’s number and went straight home. When I arrived and opened the door I found her slamming the phone shut after uttering a line of Italian expletives. Disaster had struck and I was too late in making it home to save the day. The landlady’s son had been abused and the Sicilian had travelled too far down the road. There were tears of frustration and anger in the eyes. I hadn’t quite laid my eyes on the problem and asked to be taken to the scene of the crime. I saw the kitty very comfortably sprawled on the carpet with her eyes half close. Nothing seemed to bother her. The Sicilian then marched me to the crime scene where I saw 2 very large sized kaka samples. One partly in front of my door and one directly in front of the bathroom door. One piece was placed on the table where the kitty often came over for her afternoon siesta. At first I could not believe that a cat was capable of ‘kaka’ that size. Those samples looked very human and very large to be coming out of a kitty. But then again the cat was rather big…then again, it was massive sized kaka. I could understand the Sicilians reason for the emotional implosion when faced with such a sight after a tough and long day at work. But then again the explosion and the liberal use of expletives with Stefan (landlady’s son) were also bound to land her in trouble. I was afraid that there was already too much water under the bridge. The Sicilian collected a few contacts and uttering the worst of Italian expletives slammed the main door shut on her way out. (‘kulo’, ‘putanaa’ and the works)

The Sicilian proceeded to make phone calls left right and center trying to arrange for a new place to live in since she was pretty sure that Stefan would come good on his threat of conveying the unacceptable behaviour to his mom who would then see to eviction. The Sicilian intended to find a place and save face when the landlady returned. The whole problem had actually started when the landlady left unannounced with her black lover for the Alps. She had a taste for young African males and tended to take off with them for romantic sojourns every now and then. She left the kitty behind who knew that she had a couple of days to fool around before the landlady returned. And hence the Kaka. The Sicilian slammed the door shut on the way out to meet landlords/ladies for the appointments that had just been made.

‘The Crisis Deepens’

The next morning I was jolted out of my slumber by the scream of the Sicilian. I sprung out of bed and yanked opened my door to expect the worse of the worst situations in progress outside in the hall. I saw the Sicilian with a hand on the mouth, holding back a gush of puke. I followed the Sicilian’s gaze to see the kitty feasting on a piece of her own Kaka. She was gingerly picking through the Kaka, separating the parts that won her fancy. It was amongst the more disgusting sights in recent memory and the Sicilian and I both scrambled for the bathroom sink to gag and puke. We left the apartment as soon as possible without washing up that morning vowing to let the landlady really have it later that night. So after spending a trauma struck day at work we both arrived at the apartment late at night. We sat up in the lounge flipping channels on the telly waiting for the landlady to arrive. When she finally arrived she was not in high spirits. The whole issue of the liberal use of Italian expletives had not sat well with Stefan who understood some Italian and had conveyed the finer points translated into French to his mum. When we took her to the hall to show the crimes committed by the kitty a day earlier, we found a friendly purring kitty faithfully snuggling in between the landlady’s legs and no sign of the kaka. All that remained were stains which were explained as vomit by poor Citronelle who had digestive problems sometimes. The Sicilian and I were profoundly shocked at having discovered that the kitty had digested all available evidence of its crimes and made us look extremely ridiculous.

‘The Kitty Strikes Back’

I managed to escape unscathed because of my inability to communicate in French but it was time for the Sicilian to go. A few weeks and a new roommate later the landlady took off yet again with a young black male of Madagascarian descent somewhere deep inside the Swiss alps for 3 days. She had Stefan convey the message that the kitty was being locked up in the landlady’s private bathroom with enough food and water for 3 days. The new roommate and I were more than happy with this arrangement as it allowed us complete use and freedom of the apartment. When the landlady returned 3 days later and let the kitty out the loo, it must have been pretty peeved at being shut up like that because it continued to regularly deposit kaka on and around the landlady’s bed whenever it got the chance to for an entire week.