He’s here!

Finally the family is all together again, we are complete.

Last night, one day early, a slightly frumpy (and quite overweight) Shakespeare arrived after two months boarding at our veterinarian's office in Scottsdale, AZ, one trans American flight to Houston, TX, one transatlantic flight followed by a little rest in Amsterdam, a transcontinental flight to Shanghai and six days of quarantine, and finally, a hop and a skip up to Beijing.

After having checked out the place a little bit and getting familiarized with the surroundings, he quickly settled down and behaved as normally as possible for him. He took a drink and a snack, went to the bathroom and slept soundly, without nightmares, all night long. Amazing. He is a trouper for sure.

What else can you call a cat that was left by him mommy by the side of the road at the mere age of three weeks, a cat who has lived in Singapore, Japan, Hong Kong, France, the United States and now China and has travelled more than most humans have? A cat who has once got lost in a drain (Singapore), who chased crows as big as a six month old babies and used to ride in my bike basket (Japan), developed asthma and jumped off the balcony and went down by himself in the elevator (France), has been in a fight with a bobcat and been stung by scorpions more times than I can remember (AZ of course – I think scorpion venom is like cat cocaine or something, he went back for more all the time! ) and who according to Amanda has a fly in his head (he was born with some kind of bacteria in his brain; fly or bacteria – whatever)? A cat that has travelled 6543.7 miles or 10531, 5 km in two weeks. I don’t know. Super cat?

He seems to be calmer this time around and I remember saying that when he arrived to the States as well four years ago. Age perhaps? Well, he is getting old, will be 12 in October, or maybe November – we are not sure.

The kids got slightly annoyed yesterday when I kept referring to him as my baby.

“But mommy, you didn’t have him in your tummy!” said Amanda.

“Nooo" I said, "but he doesn’t have a mommy of his own, can’t you share?”

“But what about his mommy, won’t she be sad?”

“Shakespeare’s mommy is probably dead”…as are his four hundred or so brothers and sisters on Mount Faber in Singapore. Maybe they got eaten up by a cobra or run over by a car or put in soup…. (No, I didn’t say the last part out loud, she’s only 6!)

“Ok, you can be his mommy. But you’ve got to stop calling him your baby! Mommy, he’s 12, he’ll be embarrassed…”

“No problems, baby, I’ll stop calling Shakespeare my baby. Ok baby?”

“Ok, because I’m your real baby right?”

“Yes, baby.”