Safe Havens and Semi-Adoptions.

Numerous cats hawk the streets of Riyadh and spill over into compounds.  And in every compound is someone who feeds the cats which is all well and good till That Someone leaves the compound and the cats come to the neighbours, or the cat averse new tenant, looking for their free meal of the day - then they can become annoying.  I have shooed away a cat or three from our doorstep toward the guy in a big villa on the corner who has a reputation for feeding strays because we aren't really cat lovers -  although I say that with a cat currently snoozing on the couch next to me.  I never thought the day would come when I would admit that we have, through cat stealth, semi-adopted one of Riyadh's strays.   This does not mean we have become cat lovers in the plural sense of 'cats', we are simply 'single cat' appreciators.

Every now and then, when cat numbers got a bit large and numerous cat fights or cat couplings, (which I learned from Miss Louise, a woman with a wealth of information, is a noisy affair), disturb residents' sleep, compound management would do a cat cull.   For some obscure reason security used to get tasked with the job of cat catching and could be spotted running around the coffee shop (because cats are naturally drawn to where the food is) with sacks.  They didn't look particularly happy about their job, I'm fairly certain cat scratches were many, but what can you do when the boss says cull time?

Suggestions from tenants that they get a net or a trap to make the job more effective and safe for all critters concerned fell on deaf ears because everybody is well aware that managment wouldn't actually spend a cent on proper equipment for this job!  If you live here just for a short while you quickly figure out that Saudi hierarchy are, by and large, cheapskates. (Actually, let me clarify - the Egyptian guy hired to oversee operations probably has a deal with the Indian bloke in charge of the books and together they figure out ways to skim money off the top, which doesn't really bother the Saudi owner provided lots of cash is still coming his way while all complaints are being curbed at the door by the Lebanese office bloke who is also on the take.  Which pretty much sums up the way the Arab world works, in this country anyways, and still makes the Saudi hierarchy cheapskates but with an added attitude of zero responsibility for anything - after all, it wasn't me, it was them!  Which all results in no left over cash for, or interest in, purchasing proper equipment for trivial things like cat trapping).

Rumour has it the captured critters were taken somewhere else (eg - to the desert) and let go.  Survival is then up to 'The One Who Knows All', you know, that big Kahuna who supposedly created everything.  Apparently the general consensus here in Saudi is that killing cats would make the The One very unhappy with humans but dumping furry creations in the desert where survival is questionable is perfectly OK.  It would be nice if cat culls happened in winter when the lowered desert temps gave the released felines a fighting chance, but in the past that was rarely the case on our compound.  Probably because much like people, cats like to be out and about on a balmy summer evening.

When a cat cull was underway it paid to keep your friendly cats locked up indoors so they weren't mistaken for cat riff raff and caught up in the cat crowd. (I had images of The Boy In The Striped Pajamas as I was typing that sentence - a fantastic, terrible movie!)

I'm speaking in past tense about Cat Culls because they used to happen on our compound before we found out about the Open Paws Trap, Neuter and Release program and informed management, which you can read about on my post Turf Wars - as with anything in Saudi, this was not a straight forward exercise!

Anyway, one warm summer evening soon after a cat cull we were moon bathing by the pool eating our dinner (we find the heat of a summer day far to hot to be lying by the pool, so wait till the sun has set to get comfy in the sun loungers), when this tiny ginger and white head peeped out from behind a sun lounger nearby.  It looked so forlorn.  And nervous.  And cautious.  Yet hunger was making it sit nearby where it could smell our roast chicken just waiting for a tidbit to drop to the ground. Obviously, we decided, its mother had been 'relocated' because she was nowhere to be seen and this kitten was very young.
It sat there. Silent. Wretched. Watching.
Hubster tossed a tidbit.

The kitten lifted its head.  Sniffed.  Looked at us looking at him.  Looked at the little piece of meat, then raced out grabbed it and scuttled back behind the chair.  It never made a sound but kept on peeking.  He eventually got another morsel which, I have to say, was a surprise.  The Hubster is not renowned in the family for his Cat Love.  But this little thing had struck a chord with his quiet, non-annoying, persistence.

The next night the kitten was back and he did the same thing.  Just lay behind the chair, watched, waited and eventually got rewarded.  The kitten must have followed us home because the next evening he was laying low in the impatiens plants beside our apartment door.  He looked so tiny peeping out from under his attempted camouflage.  "Look at that", I said to Hubster.  And we started putting a little plate out at night by the flower bed to feed the kitten.  We always watched him eat because although this kitten may have gotten under Hubsters tough Cat Armour, we had no intention of leaving food lying around for the rest of the felines hawking about the place.  Plus we didn't want one of the big boys coming along and beating this little guy up.  Once he was done our guard duty was over and the dish was removed.

Just to be clear - we only semi-adopted this kitten who we have called Cat because we aren't very imaginative and (quite frankly, it suits him) because we will not be taking him with us when we go and he has to learn to survive in Riyadh's Cat World without us.  To that end, we never feed cat a lot of food nor, since he has grown up quite a bit, do we put a bowl out for him every day.  "He's a stray" I would say, "and he needs to know how to fend for himself not rely on us because we often go away and one day we will leave".  So when we are in town he gets enough to keep him going but not so much he'll get fat and lazy.

I think it extremely mean of expats to adopt cats while here, to take them in, feed them, love them, keep them in-doors treated like one of the family and then turf the animal into the wilds of the street with their final exit.  Just the other week we found one of those cats, a pure white lady who had recently birthed and she looked like life on the street had put her through the Hard Cat Life wringer.  She was scraggy.  Her long white hair, matted all over her body, was filthy and she was looking malnourished and dejected.  But when a hand was reached out to stroke her she hesitated only for a moment, craving a love she used to know.  A truly wild street cat would definitely not do that.  Our cat loving neighbour has taken her in to get her, and her offspring, back to health.

Our Cat was eventually enticed out from under the flowers to the doorstep if we sat quietly enough next to his dish.  It took a long while before he deigned to let us stoke him out on the doorstep, though he never really looked comfortable with that, so we never pushed it.

One day while Hubster was on the couch and I was in the kitchen and our door was open, the growing kitten ventured inside the apartment, ever so slowly edging his way along the wall, cautiously sniffing here and there.  I still remember him skating on the tiled floor his legs racing on the spot like some cartoon character in his rush to get back out the door when one of us moved and frightened the daylights out of him.

A friend who heard about the kitten very kindly gave us a cat stand.  (Hubster was horrified - that was going too far, but I thought it may prove interesting).  We introduced the kitten to the stand and he loved it.  He would make a game of creeping into the apartment, jumping on the cat stand, then leaping off and racing out the door, skidding and sliding on the floor tiles all the way saving his final vault out onto the welcome mat at front our door to send it careening down the steps with him surfing on top.  The mat would be returned to its place because we used to like watching his antics.

Cat is a bit big for the cat stand now, though will still jump onto it for a scratch or to sleep when he is banished from the furniture - which is often when The Hubster is around.  He is quite at home in the apartment when he comes strolling in these days.  In fact, this is cat as I type...

How he has managed to wheedle his way from his cat stand to the couch with me in situ has been a long and slow process, but wheedle he has.  It has helped his cause that he is quite a bright cat.  He doesn't push his luck while in house.  No pulling rubbish out of the kitchen bin (like his mate The Black Cat who has, on occasion without us knowing until we hear plastic bag fossicking, followed cat indoors), no jumping on the bench in search of food (Black Cat again - varmint!), he tries very hard not to scratch and claw at the furnishings saving that activity for the pole on the cat stand, and should he forget a light tap on his paws stops him in his tracks.  And if he turns up while we are having dinner (we tend to leave our door open when at home in the evenings for the breeze)  he does now what he did when he first arrived on the scene.  He'll sit a little distance off, looking hopeful.  He also understands the word 'Out', and out he'll go.

To this day I have never picked cat up.  A visitor tried one day and is wearing the scratch marks for his effort.  He does, however, after five years, quite like a scratch under the chin and will curl up beside me on the couch on those evenings he just needs someone nearby while he sleeps.

Cat has only spent a few full nights inside our apartment, but those were special occasions - each night, even as that tiny kitten with an obviously well tuned survival instinct, he gets turfed back outside when we go to bed.

Very early on in our relationship Cat went AWOL.  He was gone for almost a week.  I figured he'd found someone else to feed him or come to an untimely end in a fight.  Then one morning we woke to a pounding on the door - 'Bang, bang, bang. Bang bang bang', in quick succession and a desperate crying.  I opened the door and in shot Cat - straight under the couch.  He stayed there all day.  When I finally enticed him out he looked a mess.  Dirty, bedraggled and with two huge patches of bare flesh around his shoulder and neck where fur should have been.  He got to spend that night in the apartment, hidden in the the little dark cubby at the base of the cat stand, with cat biscuits and a warm blanket.

Quite often cat will simply sit on our doorstep without coming in at all.  Our neighbor thought I'd trained him that way.  But no.  I guess he just feels relatively safe there surveying the neighborhood as it does offer quite a good view of the path where he can easily spot any approaching feline that should be avoided like nasty Ginger Tom on his nightly prowl or the mean White Mess looking for an extra meal.

Ginger Tom likes to beat up other cats.  He is afraid of people so tends to sit in the shadows till he thinks the way is clear to come a steal Cats food.  The White Mess also likes to beat up other cats (even Ginger Tom) and is not afraid of humans and will boldly head up the steps, hissing and growling his way to the bowl as Cat backs off.  Anyone who thinks being a stray is fun needs to spend more time watching the cats in their neighborhood.  It's a tough street life.

Cat used to run inside and hide under the couch when the big boys were patrolling the grounds and our door was open, now he tends to stand his ground, just for a bit because he knows nasty cat visits on our doorstep are not tolerated and something with clout is usually thrown out the open door at offenders. Our neighborly cat lover thinks we should just let all the visiting cats eat.  She's crazy.

Cat, after he's sufficiently fed, will curl up next to me when I sit on the front steps strumming on my guitar, just chillin'.  (He obviously doesn't have an ear for good music otherwise he'd find someplace else to sit).  These days Cat feels brave enough to stay beside me when Ginger Tom passes by, taking a wide berth because Ginger and Hubster do not see eye to eye and many a thing has been biffed in Ginger Toms direction to let him know how unwelcome he is.  (As I mentioned earlier, the Husband has this lack of other Cat Love).

When we put Cat out he usually sits about on the door mat for a awhile (I've seen him through the curtains) and then skedaddles to places unknown, occasionally not coming back for days.

A few evenings it is obvious Cat has had a hard time out in Riyadh's Cat World because he will turn up at the apartment early, sometimes looking dirty and ruffled, occasionally carrying an injury,  and he'll jump on the cat stand, sprawl himself out and crash.  I can walk past, lift his paws, twiddle his ears or pull back his lips and he won't flinch.  He is out for the count.  On a couple of those occasions I haven't had the heart to throw him out because, clearly, cat needs a rest, so he has got to spend those nights indoors.  It's nice to know he feels safe enough to completely zonk out in the apartment.  Around 4am he will walk into the bedroom and make a few mewling sounds to wake us so we can put him out.  Cat has never gone to the toilet in the house.  Not even when he was little.

Waving goodbye to Cat when we leave will be a time of mixed emotions, I'm sure.  We have, after all, deliberately only semi-adopted him knowing our life here is temporary (though that 2 years has extended to quite a healthy 7 at last count) and that he needed to be left outdoors to learn street smarts, only coming to us for a safe or quiet haven.  Cat has worked out a Compound Snack Route to keep himself amply fed.  Our place, Ahmed's place, Theresa's place, Euan's place, the security office and, just recently, Nathalie's place.  And of course the Bar-b-cue area when a group meal is on.  Those, as far as I know, are the Free Cat Food zones available in the compound.  I have no idea  if cat ever ventures out of the compound, though there are a few cats who have ventured in and stayed - Nasty Mess was one of those.  And I know Cat can hunt.  I've seen him chase down a bird and run off over the back fence to devour it.  So I shouldn't be worried about his ability to find food.  It's just I know he needs a refuge, a retreat, a safe house now and then to recharge before heading back out to face the many dangers and challenges of the Stray Cat World in Riyadh.  Where is he going to find that if we aren't here?




Ka Kite,
Kiwi

The Acquired Ginger Cat

We have acquired a cat...sort of.  He's a ginger and white cat, currently nameless unless you consider 'Cat' a name.  Surprisingly, Hubster has decided he deserves our love and attention.  Well, some of it anyway.  You see, we aren't really cat lovers.  And yet this feline has managed to weedle himself into our lives - for about an hour or so each night.

One of the cats on this compound breeds like nobody's business, and the little ginger squawker belonged to her.  Obviously he figured out fairly early on in his little kitten life that his survival was up to himself so he began roaming the fringes of people-dom in search of food, and possibly love and affection, at a very young age.

He was a spindly looking, loudly meowing bludging kitten.  Each night it would sidle shakily up beside our chairs as we sat moon bathing out by the pool.  Most nights it would sit, just far enough away not to be annoying, but close enough to be obvious.  I'm guessing it presumed we had food.  Most nights it was sadly mistaken - we only had coffee!  Initially the kitten was ignored or chased away.  But he was a persistent little bugger and one night he scored some of Hubster's left over KFC.  Well, then we couldn't get rid of him, could we!  And he started following us home.

So, one thing led to another and soon he was being fed, once a day only, early in evening, out on the front step.  I refuse to feed the cat in the apartment.  He is going to stay a wild cat because we travel a lot and he still needs to know how to hunt and live rough.  But at least he'll be in slightly better nick than the other wild cats hanging about.  That's my theory anyway.

He was a right Scary Mary initially.  Cautious and jittery.  He had this habit of clawing at the ground, the door mat, the front step, the tiles - anything at all, constantly, with his rather giant paws.  I found it quite unnerving.  It reminded me of fingernails on a chalk board and I half expected to hear a terrible screeching sound coming from the ground upon which he always clawed.

The cat soon got quite comfortable around our front step.  Eventually we could reach out and pat him without him running into nearby shrubbery before skulking his way back to the food.  He gets company at each meal.  Ours.  As I told Hubster, I have no intention of feeding every other cat in the compound - just this one.  So we sit on the front door step with him.  Initially it was to keep the other bludging cats away.  Now we've discovered it's quite nice to just sit and chill on the front step after a day at work.  If we had a beer in hand as well it would make for a near perfect evening ritual!


We told a friend about our semi-adopted cat.  She loves cats and gave us a whole bunch of pet food her newest addition won't eat.  And a cat tower.  Introducing the kitten to the cat tower was a bit of fun.  He'd walk, Scary Mary fashion in the door, following the smell of cat biscuits he was being teased with.  H'e'd investigate the tower, sniffing, cautiously, slowing sticking his head into the bottom house then jerking his body out,  and turning tail, slip sliding on the floor tiles and flying full tilt out the door because something had frightened him.

That was the first week.  By the second week he was entertaining us by flying full tilt in the door when we opened it, and leaping at pace to the top rung to fight with the balls of fluff hanging around up there.  Then he'd leap off, flying back out the door, skidding on the tiles as he went like an out of control ice skater.  Every now and then he'd smack into the couch mid skid.  He'd wander around outside composing himself.  Shaking his head.  Mewling.   Then he'd come flying back in and do it all again.

A few weeks after Cat made us decide that ours was a nice place for him to visit, I had to seek the expertise of a pet center because of the bites I was getting all over my legs.  I thought they were fleas from the cat.  I was wrong.  Apparently there are no fleas in Riyadh - it's the wrong weather for them.  So I came home with cat shampoo for lice and instructions on how to get said kitten into a bucket of water.  He didn't really enjoy that experience and, once he could extricate himself from my grasp, he disappeared under the couch to hide.  We left him there for a while but he's an outdoor cat, so out he goes, just like Fred Flintstone and his cat, and just like Fred's cat, he's not happy with that plan.


One night, about a week after we accepted that Cat had officially been semi-adopted, he didn't turn up.  I presumed he'd been fed by someone else and was hanging around someone else's door getting a better deal.  When he didn't turn up the next night either, the thought that cats are fickle beings did cross my mind.  Come the third night, Hubster thought the kitten may have been beaten up by one of the Toms that like to rule our compound - well in cat world they rule.  Apparently there had been an almighty cat scrap out by the B-B-Q the night of the Italian Cook Up and, being a wild cat looking for food, our Cat had been attracted to the barbecued chicken along with every other feline in the neighborhood  When Cat didn't turn up the next night either Hubster announced that Cat was probably dead.  He's very matter of fact like that.

The following night there was a commotion at our doorstep.  Seriously, it sounded as though some huge animal was literally throwing itself at our door.  Banging and knocking and screeching.  I actually thought it was Big Tom come to demand some attention.  When I opened the door Cat came bolting through and disappeared under the couch.    Hubster and I looked at each other.  I didn't think a kitten that small could make so much noise at our door.  Apparently cat was not happy under the couch and spent the next hour or so restlessly trying to find some other corner to curl up and hide in.  He looked a lot worse for wear, too.  Obviously, he'd had a rough few days and I think he had been taken to by a bigger cat, but we couldn't get close enough for a thorough investigation.  He eventually settled in a nook on top of the couch covered by the heavy drapes.  We left him there for the night and the next morning, he hadn't moved an inch.  To date, that is the only night he has spent indoors.

Being semi-responsible cat adopters we did wonder how we were going to continue care for Cat when we went away over Ramadan.  After all, we are less than complimentary about other cat feeders who abandon cats when holidays send expats fleeing from the country.  We didn't want to be one of those kinds of semi-adoptive expats.  So, we employed security to help out.  With instructions, a key to the apartment and plenty of food, one of our security blokes would visit each night and sit on the steps with the cat.  He loved it.  It was his time out.  Him and Cat bonded quite nicely for a month.  He was surprised how easy it was to look after Cat.  Cat grew a lot in that month!

Our next move is to get Cat fixed.
We don't really want him contributing to the compound cat population.
And I don't intend to feed additional offspring.

Lana, who Hubster has dubbed The Crazy Cat Lady, is happy to come to the compound and talk to the manager about her voluntary role as Riyadh's Cat Ambassador.  Our neighbor, who has also adopted a wild kitten, went to visit Lana and returned with a fountain of information on her activities.  You can find out more here, on Open Paws website.   Lana said she would visit and deal with any cats provided management is happy to have her.  I'm recommending management say yes....but I'm not holding my breath there will be an immediate follow through.  The health and breeding capacity of city cats, or any animals for that matter, isn't really up the 'This Is Important' ladder for peeps in this country.  So I have Lana's number and will be giving her a call.  Getting Cat to co-operate with my plan might prove somewhat interesting.




Ka Kite,
Kiwi

The Pet Souq in Riyadh

There's a  Pet Souq in Riyadh.
Watching Rosella's winging their way across a blue sky the other day reminded me of it.

Hubster and I went to the Riyadh Pet Souq after much pestering by me.  He wasn't all that keen to go.  Mr Noor had taken him to the Pet Souq three or so years previously to find a talking parrot to keep him company because I wasn't here.  (I'm not sure what that says about me).  The parrot was suggested because Hubster wasn't so keen on the Pakistani taxi fraternity's first idea for easing his loneliness - get a new wife. 

The talking parrots speak Arabic.

Glenn told me stories of baby gorillas in chains at the Pet Souq and powerful animal pee smell rising from the hot animal crap steaming on the ground outside.  I was expecting the worst.

It wasn't that bad.  The Pet Souq has been cleaned up.  Hubster was pleasantly surprised with the effort.

The Pet Souq is south along Al Hair road.  My trusty camera had run out of battery so my trusty phone was called to sneak the photo's.  I'd heard the folks at the pet souq weren't keen on photography - that turned out to be a load of cods wallop (aka - not true).

The Pet Souq is basically a number of shops housed under one roof mostly selling various birds, fish, cats, rabbits and puppies.  Though many of the animals for sale are of the 'take home as a pet' variety I'm fairly certain most of the birds purchased from the Riyadh Pet Souq are destined for the crock pot or the chook house.  Quails, ducks, geese and hens can be found indoors.

Out the back in another area with more birds of various sizes and ages.  Some were so young they were being dropper feed some concoction which we were assured was good for the birds...

...and a couple of long legged baby beauty's were proudly displayed for us that we think were ostriches.

There are a few stalls set up outside the main building selling trinkets, one guy with a few monkeys whose happiness looked questionable (the monkeys, not the guy) given they were squashed into a cage and on sale to this western couple for 600SAR each (we declined)...

Most fascinating were the number of sizable desert lizards.  Given that our forays into the Saudi desert are usually at a rapid vehicular pace or with extremely large groups of expats making lots of noise this would be the only time I would see, or touch, a desert lizard.  They were piled over each other in wire cages and, from memory, were on sale for 25SAR each, destined to be somebody's delectable dinner. 

 There is, so I've heard, a tearoom type facility not far away where the bedouin blokes get together to show off their Master Chef lizard cooking skills.  I'd like to send Hubster along with a camera and an empty stomach.  He isn't so keen.
 

If you're looking for cheap pets this is where you'll find them.  If you're looking for happy animals receiving the highest quality care - well, perhaps the Pet Souq in Riyadh is not the place to go.

Location of Riyadh's Pet Souq
Riyadh Pet Souq Co-ordinates: 24 35.2’ N; 46 44.6’ E

View Kiwi In Saudi: Tiki Tour in a larger map



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Cats in Riyadh, Open Paws

There are loads of cats in Riyadh.
They roam the streets and compound walls and fossick through the street rubbish or lounge atop the skip bin lips in between rubbish feasts.  They aren't in the best of feline health though.

Cats here, as in many countries the world over, are dumped and left to fend for themselves once the novelty of the cute kitten fades and the cat owner just can't be bothered being a cat owner any more.

Even in Kiwiland we have a bit of an issue with wild cats killing off local bird life, their population assisted by a known relative or two I'd like to knock on the head for getting yet another cat they don't look after bleating yet again 'O God, I forgot, I have to be responsible for this animal.  This one doesn't look after itself either!' 

Fortunately there are great forests in Kiwiland with lots of birds and other cat lovely edibles so the wild cats we come across look fat, if not somewhat matted and unfriendly.  We also have the SPCA - Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. 

In Saudi the conditions are a lot more harsh for turfed cats.

Now, I'm not a cat person myself and you won't find me feeding wayward cats because I feel sorry for them - there are enough cat lovers on the compound who do that - but it is somewhat annoying when certain expats, along with the locals, decide to get a cat for their kids then leave the cat in the courtyard when they upsticks and exit the country.

The ex-cat owners who release their cats out in the desert and expect they're going to survive are complete and utter nutters!  Who do they expect is going to care for the animal?  Oh, that's right, 'The one who sees and knows all'.

I'm quite certain ex-cat owners have no idea how hard it is to survive on the street as a cat.  We regularly hear cats scrapping outside - screeching, bawling, hissing and yowling.  It is not uncommon to come across beaten up, limping cats in Riyadh looking understandably mangy.  

And then, of course, the abandoned animal starts breeding because the previous owner didn't quite get round to getting the cat fixed.  Result - more cats with questionable survival rates.  The kind soul who comes around pleading for someone to please take a kitten is usually directed to Lana.

Lana is a vet in Riyadh who runs a not for profit charity called Open Paws.  It's an organisation dedicated to helping the hundreds of animals in need of care in Riyadh.  There are no animal shelters in KSA and although the religion says be kind to animals the law, apparently, is not quite so up with the play and when it comes to animals Saudi's have their own quirky (some may say warped) idea of what being kind means (refer back to 'turf me out in the desert').

Lana has been neutering and spaying street cats and those cats who have made themselves at home on compounds for some time along with improving their health status.  When she first started she was doing this all at her own cost and without much help. 

Now, a few animal lovers have got on board with her and are helping out with Open Paws.  She still requires volunteers to assist, and a few rich dudes with money to send her way would certainly be welcomed with open arms to build an animal shelter.

Open Paws runs a Trap-Neuter-Return program in certain areas.  They also attempt to re-home animals through pet adoptions and they always need foster carers for animals.  Visit their website www.openpaws.org to find out more and then give Lana a call.

The cat in this video is just one of many that Open Paws assists: