[Diary of an Expat Bride] All creatures great and small

It was in the home, however, where Noelle’s presence was not appreciated. When I lived alone, I only experienced problems when I would have a visitor. More often than not, the visitor would be deathly afraid of cats, especially a social one like Noelle who insisted on greeting everyone who came to the door. I would have to lock the poor cat in the guest room before any visitors arrived. Can loved Noelle, but since he didn’t grow up with cats, it was a hard transition for him when we moved in together.

I can honestly say that our biggest fights have been about our cats. In addition to Noelle, we adopted a street cat who had been attacked by a dog and had a severely wounded leg. Now the owner of two felines, we had twice the stress. For me, taking care of two cats was easy; for Can, it was a nightmare. While he loved the idea of having a cat, he hated the fur that soon was everywhere in our house. He became obsessed with vacuuming and picking each individual hair off of his clothes before leaving the house. Every day new rules would spring up about where the cats were not allowed to go. The kitchen being off limits made sense, and I offered no protest. When he told me he wanted the cats restricted only to our little hallway, I finally put my foot down. They needed access to light and windows, and it would be too cage like for them to be locked out of every room. When I became pregnant, Can’s rules grew even more extreme.

While our Turkish friends and relatives tsked tsked in general about our cats, my pregnancy drew a greater outcry from all sides. I lost count of how many times during my pregnancy a friend or relative would call me with ridiculous horror stories about cats. Didn’t I know that if I swallowed a cat hair, it would go directly to my brain, or my baby’s? It reminded me of the old wives tales of cats sucking a baby’s breath that were once told in the US. Most people assumed I would get rid of my cats before the baby’s birth. At first I would patiently explain to people that their fears were unfounded. After some time, my anger grew, and I started to draw away from people who were too pushy. Given the difficult circumstances of my pregnancy, I needed as little stress around me as possible. Since Can was away for most of my pregnancy, it was really my cats who gave me physical and emotional comfort during my difficult days. I wanted to present a brave face to everyone and only cried in the privacy of my own home. My cats would sit near me, the sound of their purr offering comfort to me and my unborn child. When the baby started kicking, our tabby cat would even play with it by batting at my rippling tummy. How could I give them away or turn them out on the street? Can reluctantly agreed, although he feared that all of the cat detractors may be right.

When it came time to move house, we hired a moving company. I locked the cats in the bathroom and didn’t think it necessary to tell the movers, about six men in all, about our cats. They would ride to our new house in their cat carriers with us, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. After everything was loaded, I gave Can the cat carrier with our cats, and he headed downstairs while I did one last walk around the house to make sure we had gotten everything. When I got to the parking lot a few minutes later, everything was chaos. Three men were shaking on top of nearby cars, Can was screaming and a very distressed cat was yowling for life. Can screamed at me that our tabby cat had escaped his carrier. Rather than help, the movers proved to be deathly afraid of cats and had jumped on top of a nearby car. My poor, innocent cat was more afraid than them and was hiding under a car.

“Can someone help me get him?” I asked, incredulously. No one, my husband included, made a move toward the distressed feline underneath the blue car. I took a deep breath and, with my six-month pregnant bump, lay down in the mud and squeezed under the car to reach my cat.

“Shame on all of you!” I reprimanded the men. “You!” I said to one of the movers, “Did you sacrifice an animal this last Kurban Bayramı?”

“Yes, a sheep,” he said as he climbed off the car.

“Bravo! But you are scared of a small cat. Incredible!” I mused, as he refused to meet my eyes. I stuffed Conan back into his carrier while my sheepish husband said he was too shocked to react when I asked him why he didn’t just reach under the car to grab our cat. Safely back in his carrier, Conan calmed down, and we drove the rest of the way to our new house. Once there, I locked them in the bathroom, much to the movers’ relief.