An Ode to the Argentinian Cat

Back in November, a cat adopted us. We didn’t adopt him–he completely adopted us. We were sitting outside, digging in the garden, when I hear a faint mewling coming from under our car.  I see the skinniest orange cat ever crawl out from under and stare at us, mewling. T asked if we should feed him, and remembered we had a leftover empanada in our fridge.

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Twenty minutes later, I had a purring, orange fluffball in my lap giving me cat hugs.  We’ve named him Mooch, because we’re pretty sure that he’s a Six Dinner Sid and he is quite insistent with mealtimes.

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He is absolutely an outdoor cat.  T is incredibly allergic to cats, so he’s never coming in. But I think he’s cool with being an outdoor kitty. He has no urge to use the litter pan we bought (actually, it’s his naptime spot), and the only times he’s coming in the house are to run from the front door to the back door in order to expedite dinner time and when a bunch of dogs started chasing him and the nearest escape was our front door.

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As the months have gone by, he’s brought the family along. Fred (a girl cat we named before we realized she was very pregnant) and her two kittens (one of whom we’ve named Ferris Mewler) make an appearance, and Derf (who used to be called “Not Fred” because T has a problem distinguishing which tabby cat is which) and her two kittens also swing by the food dish.

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This isn’t an uncommon thing–to just place a bowl of food out, but not really “own” any of the cats. Most of the Argentinian cats we’ve encountered have been strays like Fred and Mooch. They just have their regular porches to sleep on, but aren’t terribly friendly. (Except for Mooch, who would like to be involved in everything and loves to be petted.) There’s a completely different theory about animals down here–there are no trap and release or trap and adopt measures. There’s much more of a “live and let live” feel to it.

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Mooch isn’t coming back with us to the States–we know that. I don’t think he would like not having the run of the neighborhood, and he’s clearly not learning litterbox etiquette anytime soon. But for now, he’s a good companion.

 

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