Across Borders

A Cat's Tale of Moving and Discovery

This is the second time they have put me in my carrier bag and taken me to a new place. The first time, I was really scared. The second time, I thought I knew the drill, but I was wrong. Let me tell you about my humans and their inexplicable need to move every year.

When we first moved, two years ago, I didn't know what to expect. I could tell something out of the ordinary was going to happen soon. During the week, she had been putting together boxes and filling them with their things. He was stacking them in the dining room and, to me, it was fun to play around the giant carboard towers. I live light and I don't know why objects are so important to them. When I like something, I use it, enjoy it, and then find something else that I like more. Sometimes, I just lose my toys behind the fridge or in some inaccessible corner of the house. They don't. They accumulate a lot of things, especially her, who has a weakness for books and notebooks.

By Friday, everything was packed and a group of men arrived very early in the morning. Synchronized like a Swiss watch, they loosened screws, covered the television with a protective blanket, and loaded everything into a truck. The apartment looked naked. In two hours, those men had transformed our home into four walls with no trace of our passage through that little piece of Manhattan.

I think my humans tried to explain to me what was happening, but, although I understand a few words in their language, I was too nervous to make sense of what they were saying. They put me in my carrier bag, and we went down the three flights of stairs. Once on the street, she told me we were heading to the subway, yet I didn’t know what that was, and we went down another flight of stairs.

My eyes had to adjust to the dim light. I had never been to a place like that. There were dark tunnels on both sides, and I didn't like the smell. It was stinky. Again, she talked to me to calm me down, but the noise in that place was so loud that I couldn't hear a word. A giant metal snake came out of the tunnel, stopped slithering, and we got into the stomach of that disgusting animal.

"These people are crazy; this thing is going to eat us!" I meowed as loudly as I could, but they didn't listen to me. In moments of stress, I forget that they don't understand my language.

I don't know how, but we survived the snake and arrived in a new neighborhood. Less noise and lower houses. They told me it was called Brooklyn, and I must confess that I liked the new house better. It had more windows to keep tabs on the neighbors and they bought me a new super comfortable bed for my naps.

For a year, everything was fine in Brooklyn. I had almost forgotten about the horrible day in the carrier bag and the snake until they started putting things in boxes again. Really? Can’t we just stay here?

I thought I knew what was waiting for me, but I was wrong. We didn’t use the snaky subway. This time they took me with them in the truck where they had packed their furniture and boxes. He was the driver, I sat in the middle seat, and she was the co-pilot. We left Brooklyn early in the morning. It was still dark and we could spot the moon in the sky. I heard them saying contradictory things: sad to leave New York, but also happy and motivated by the new adventure. I think to myself, how complicated humans are with their emotions!

When we passed through New Jersey it was already daylight and, as they told me that the highways there are confusing, I remained calm. I didn't want to distract them because it was obvious that they were tense. In fact, they took the wrong exit twice and the voice on the phone told them that the mistake had added 20 more minutes to our trip.

"How long will the trip take?" I meowed. But they thought I was asking them for food and gave me my favorite treat. “Delicious, thanks! But you still didn’t answer my question!” I insisted in vain.

I don't know how many hours it was, but I know that the trip was long because we saw many different landscapes and climates. The few sprouting trees when we left gave way to bare trees that had not heard of spring yet. It was sunny, almost cloudless, and I liked seeing the sky without buildings for the first time. Later it clouded over, and the road began to turn white, more and more until the fields were all covered in snow. In the distance, we saw several windmills. I didn't know what they were, but she explained that those white propellers move with the wind and give energy to that area in upstate New York.

After so much countryside we arrived at a city called Buffalo, like the animal, although I didn't see any. They bought sandwiches and offered me some chicken. It smelled good, but I was so tired that I had no appetite. Strange for me, I’m always hungry, but that day was atypical.

With full bellies, they continued their drive, and the snow turned to rain. They told me we would arrive soon, and we followed the signs to a long bridge over a lake that looked like an endless sea. It was obvious that they were happy and it reassured me to know that we were already close to our new home.

The voice on the phone said: “Welcome to Canada,” and they celebrated with excitement.

At the end of the bridge, we stopped at what looked like a toll booth. A woman in uniform looked at their documents, made them sign some forms, and asked them about me. “Do you have the rabies vaccine certificate for the cat?” Of course I do, I have all my vaccines, and my humans make sure I am always healthy.

We drove for a little longer on a busy highway and it was already dark when we got to our new city. He met a group of men that would help unload the truck and she took me up the elevator.

“Gatita, welcome to your new home!” she said as she opened the carrier bag, letting me step out onto the empty new apartment. The space smelled of strong cleaning products and she seemed satisfied that it had been recently cleaned. It was a bit annoying to me and I did my inspection of the place while rubbing against all the wall corners to spread my smell. I chose my spot by the balcony window, where I could keep an eye on the world outside, and decided this would be my new realm for now.

Hello, how are you? I am happy to send you emails again after few hectic months full of things that kept me away from writing: planning an international move, wrapping up my work in New York in the mist of unprecedented uncertainty in the international education field, and finishing the last draft of a chapter for a research book on multilingual education.

Emigrating is an exciting and terrifying process at the same time, and I chose to tell you about the move from Gatita’s perspective because I think I still haven’t finished processing so much change. In the coming months, I’ll tell you more about this platypus’ new habitat.

If you just joined this newsletter, you can read more about Biko, Gatita, and me here.

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Until next time!

Maria Pia