Carol Wolfson

Is there some genetic code in kittens/cats that demands they jump on whatever you are trying to read (and if possible destroy it)? How do cats know (or dogs for that matter) that the reason you settle on the sofa with the Sunday Chicago Tribune (delivered same day in Asia now) is specifically so that they can leap on to the middle of it (and hence your abdomen) for a much-needed nap? At this moment, I am sitting on the balcony of our house in Bali, typing away on my laptop to write this article (this balcony is meant for cocktails, not writing!) and my newest little monster will have none of it

I mention this for two reasons (see the second reason at the end of this entry): The first is that after having too many friends, readers, donors and potential publishers remind me that my blog is 9 months behind now, I am finally resolving myself to catch up and then say farewell folks (bye-bye, so long blog!)…writing a book is one thing (and I’m grateful for all your support…book sales in Hong Kong and Shanghai have been fantastic…the only two places I’ve attempted to market it…and whatever profits there have been have been donated to my org SCAA and also to the Shambhala Foundation—see www.Shambhala-ngo.org for more details of what we are up to in Western China and Tibet…), but keeping up with current blog entries or even considering looking to larger markets for a publisher is far more enervating than I wish for the rest of my lifetime.

I am so far behind in my blog for many personal reasons but in reference to the first paragraph above, I am in Bali at this moment because of two cats. The “short” version—hadn’t been to our house in Bali for well over a year and husband/I finally took a long weekend to pop over from Kuala Lumpur (just a hop compared to traveling from Shanghai to KL) as we needed to urgently have some house repairs done. We usually stay at the Bali Hyatt in Sanur for a few days during our vacation (they have been dear friends and supporters of all my charity work for about 15 years now…my current, deepest thanks to dear friend and GM of the Bali Hyatt Sanur, Stephen Radcliffe). But because our time was so limited we just got off the plane, rented a jeep and headed directly to the house, which is still standing, enshallah.

In any case, friends of ours were staying at a lovely villas hotel, aptly named The Villas (a very good price for your own villa with 1-3 bedrooms and private pool, albeit a bit outdated in décor at this time when so many new chic boutique hotels are being constructed every second—at three times the price too), so we decided to stay two nights as well, as it’s smack in the middle of my favorite shopping part of town, before we returned to KL.

I think I must have some invisible tattoo branded into my forehead (as well as kitty-attracting pheromones, no doubt) that says “Cat Sucker”, for as soon as we had checked into our villa, an absolutely gorgeous tortoiseshell kitten (about 10 months I’d say) jumped in over the wall, meowing pitifully. She wasn’t quite starving but she was very, very hungry. I opened my treasured Lay Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chip bag (treasured as I only allow myself potato chips on vacations and when guests visit our home—I buy them for our guests of course…) and she practically inhaled them. I looked up at Michael and before I could plead a word he said “I’ll go get cat food”. Is that training or what (or is he just as much a sucker as I am)? This kitty then glued herself to us for the entire two days we were there. I barely left the villa except to get an explanation from the hotel manager that there were many strays in the hotel (true for many hotels in Bali) and sometimes they get fed and sometimes guests complain and they have to push them out into the alleys.

I couldn’t sleep the night before we left Bali as all I could think about was abandoning this sweet girl who had cemented herself to us. She was waiting for us (and food) each time we entered the villa or came out of our bedroom into the living area. She snuggled up to me in contented sleep when I read by the pool. She slept with me in bed (don’t tell the management!) and when she was outside the room she would sleep bent around the Buddha statue in the center of the room (I swear: Guilt by Buddhist Karma).

Next morning, I used my biggest brown cow eye-maneuver on the husband, who realized he had no choice but to agree to my plan. My birthday, 24 August, was orginally to be spent in a swank hotel in Langkawi but that idea bit the kitty litter; how could I possibly bathe in magnums of champagne not knowing whether my little stray kitty girl was starving to death in an alley?

So, on the morning we left, I asked the staff to send over the room manager, Pak Arjana (who no doubt thought I was about to have a hissy fit about something…not that I ever do that….) to come to our villa as soon as he arrived at the hotel. At 8:59.00001, he arrived and I tried to explain the situation without sounding like the insane type of cat woman that so many of us are (you know who I’m talking about….!).

“Um, I don’t know exactly how to phrase this, but I’ve fallen in love with one of your stray kittens and I have to leave now but would you mind keeping her for a month?” Luckily, in general the Balinese are some of the kindest, most understanding and spiritual people I’ve ever met (well, not necessarily about dogs I’ve discovered….) and Pak Arjana immediately agreed. I was quite fearful about this as it’s not the answer I would have received in China…at least not without a huge bribe. They kept the cat in their pest control rooms in a large cage (considering my own two cats went through four horrific months of quarantine in the old Hong Kong Pokfulam government facilities in 2001, I figured this kitty could endure for a month of less movement but a full belly while waiting for me to return!). In gratitude, I also gave Pak Arjana a donation for whatever local temple was in the hotel’s vicinity (when in doubt, bribe and say thanks to all the gods…after all, the kitten was sleeping next to a Buddhist statue in our villa…).

Thus, out Langkawi, in Bali again for my birthday and picking up Nefratiti. We are calling her Neffy for short, but she is such a regal cat she must be the reincarnation of an Egyptian Queen. Not only that, but she calmly endured the 1 ½ ride to the house and was out exploring every nook of the interior of the house in minutes and made herself right at home. (We did place her in a small area of the main bedroom so she could slowly adapt, but we forgot that she could easily jump up to a cabinet and on to the ceiling rafters between the rooms throughout the house…and she did so. We quietly left her to rest and while husband and I were enjoying cocktails on the balcony with our other new kitten…see next para), about five minutes later she was sitting next to us….

I have a favorite room I sleep in that I call my “zen” room…it’s a little guest house separated from the main house (meant for mother-in-laws and anyone with kids). It’s dark and wooden and full of Buddhist statuary…a very peaceful place. There was no way Neffy wanted to stay in the house so we let her out the very first night (again, quite different than in Shanghai, where we urge people to keep their pets indoors…the threat of poisoning or being stolen for the food/fur trade is very, very real and very, very scary… in Bali, our home is nestled in huge fields near the ocean and rice fields, and animals of all kinds are on the land and run/rest/hunt/play w/o fear…it takes awhile to get used to this difference whenever we visit). As I prepared to go to sleep, the next thing you know Neffy was meowing at my zen door, strolled in, jumped on my silk duvet and settled in for the night…8 hours later at 6am, she gently nudged me with her paw, signifying breakfast time…and this was a stray cat?). The only signs that she was a stray was wolfing (or rather, “tigering”) down her food at every meal in fear that it might be her last for a long time, and the fact that she was initially afraid of our maid (who adores cats) because Neffy saw her walking around with a broom…probably similar to the kind that swatted her out of the villa guest rooms when people complained (needless to say, if you are not a cat/animal lover, you wouldn’t be a guest in our home anyway!).

But, two cats you ask? Well, at one time we were up to 11. Not on purpose mind you but actually, when I was writing the book at the house in 2000, a very sick female white cat approached and as I was staying around for a few weeks, I took her in and healed her. Healing meaning you feed them, they get well and immediately become pregnant. She had two litters before I could be around to get her neutered and then all her wee ones fixed too. Even though humans are not the source of harm to animals in the countryside here in Bali, there are still snakes, dogs, monitor lizards and highway cars, so the lifespan of these cats (compared to our indoor pet cats) are comparatively short….our Bali cats lived quite long though and only in 2007 did our final cat not return home (seven years may not seem like much but it’s not a bad lifespan for a country kitty here). Suddenly we had mice in the house (although I like mice, I don’t particularly like them eating my sour cream and onion crisps…) and I asked our maid Ketut to bring in other kitties to the house but many of them turned out to be too feral to tame (as in the sofa ending up being used as a great big litter box…yuck) so we’ve been kittyless over a year now…then while we were picking up Neffy, I found out that Ketut, precious soul that she is herself, found a near dead kitten on the highway and brought it to our home and healed it.

He is about two months old now, a little devil kitty indeed, and I’ve named him Simba as I believe he does think he is the lion king of all lions. At this very moment, he has given up sitting on the laptop and is curled up next to me, full belly exposed in the air in a way that only a very happy, content and safe kitty can be. His name had to be either Simba or Drac as his ears are so large and face still so small (and a bit of abandoned-kitty-crusty bits are still to heal) that he kind of looks like a vampire bat (which I adore too…). At this point, Simba desperately wants to play with Neffy and Neffy has this demeanor about her that expresses “I just got my own place…leave me alooooooooooooone. Hiss. Hiss.”). But she doesn’t hurt him and every time she moves, he is right behind her trying to catch up and grab her tail…since this is only day 3, hopefully they’ll be curled up as brother and sister soon. Then again, my own two cats back home are from the same litter, 9 years old and beat the crap out of each other every day (ostensibly playing but you gotta wonder when tufts of fur fly through the air and my Princess, who is half the size of her brother Pumpkin, screams like a banchee as she rips another patch off his skin and escapes to my side…girl power and all…). Ultimately, I cannot think of a better birthday present than the addition of two beautiful little souls who now have a safe, loving home in Bali forever, for however long their forever may be.

So there is reason one why my first para in this blog is about cats (and specifically about Simba thinking that the keyboard on this laptop is yet another resting place meant specifically for him). Before I get on to my other reason for including cats in the first paragraph, a couple of short answers (yes, short….it’s almost cocktail time) to questions people have been asking these past nine months since our move from Shanghai to Kuala Lumpur:

*Biggest difference between KL and Shanghai: I’ve notice five primary differences that smack me in the face daily (of course there are huge differences overall, but this is what I notice every day):
1. Weather: God, I love KL. Warm, warm, warm. Even the slashing rain is warm. It is not like freezing Irish rain and it’s not bitter, icy Shanghai rain. It simply confirms that from here on I am a permanent tropical bunny (but I still haven’t had the nerve to give away all my winter business suits and clothing….that’s 28+ years worth of collecting…hard for a woman to do overnight…). And the air is clean…no inches of dust on the floor, or the cats, every day.
2. Cultural Diversity: After living in primarily Chinese cities my entire adult life (and other Asian ones but still mostly homogeneous), coming to KL has been a literal culture shock. It’s humbling. You’ll be a in bar (so much for conservative Islamic values in the center of KL nightlife) with several different nationalities and most of these people speak five or more languages and switch at ease. The Malay Indian lady who is a waitress at our favorite wine bar speaks Bahasa Malay, Hindi, Urdu, Farsi, English, Cantonese and Mandarin (those are just the ones she uses at work…her parents speak local Indian dialects at home and she is dating a man from Kashmir and learning his dialect).
3. Children: Oh my God. Kids are everywhere. Makes me appreciate the China one-child policy even more. Everywhere you go there are families with 2-5 kids each. People ask how many kids we have and when we say “none”, they reply “I’m so sorry.” Huh? So now I just use my two cats: “We have two, nine-year old twins…we home school them.” And now with our additional two Bali kitties, I think the answer will be even more interesting: “We have four kids, a set of nine-year old twins and one 11-month old and one two-month old.” Let them do the math. Our apartment complex is one of the loveliest in KL but as it’s primarily full of career-climbing expat males, there are hoards of stay-at-home expat wives (mostly European, Australian and American) with families of 1-4 children each. Our balcony in on the six floor and overlooks the complex pool. As the Grinch says, “Oh the NOISE, NOISE, NOISE….NOISE”. And the American kids play the obnoxious water game “Marco Polo”…one kid sceams “Marco” as the hunter and the others scream “Polo”. Make that “polo polo polo polo polo polo polo….”. I hated the game when I was a kid and even more now. Nothing like getting ready to settle in with a later afternoon book or a cocktail, when that 8-11 year old gathering of just-home-from-school kids leap into the pool and start screaming their lungs out. Oh, how I long for a semi-automatic (or maybe a cross bow…give the kids a fighting chance to really get across and out of the pool…). Along with the children thing, is the purposely hostile thing among the residents. We do have some lovely neighbors on our floor (three apts to each floor and happily, all of us are childless and all love cats…). One couple is from a friendly nation in Europe and I asked the woman if is it just me or is it true that most of the women in this complex will walk right by you as if you don’t exist. You might be the only two people on the sidewalk and the woman will just glare past you as if you are not only a bag lady but an ugly, have-no-children-loser type. I’ve seen this throughout my time in Asia when it’s been the big-fish-little pond syndrome (i.e. “I’m so important here with my own maid and driver and expat rental income….I have no idea if you are worthy of talking to me.”), but it’s really quite striking in KL becaues most of the local population are so nice. I also think that we who have no children have been singled out because these women, who have nothing all day to do but take care of the kids (or quite often do whatever else they can’t afford back home and leave the maids to let the kids scream around the pool without any discipline), gather in their own little social circle and take pride in being unfriendly to other woman who might have a life outside of their children. (Dalai Lama Dalia Lama…I could go on but I did say short answers didn’t I?).
4. Burkas/Chadri: Okay, how can one be a “Western” woman, having grown up in a completely secular environment, without noticing the number of full-burka’d women in KL? Top secular off for me with having lived most of my professional life in Chinese countries where the greatest religion is money. I respect all for whatever they believe in (as long as it brings no harm to other sentient beings) but it still irks me every time I see a guy in shorts, gold chains, backward baseball cap and sandals and the wife or girlfriend clad from head to toe in black robes complete with face mask/netting….sitting in a hotel lounge or restaurant maneuvering to get food in under their headdress to eat….honestly makes me want to go and rip it off. I find the headdress of observing Islamic women in KL lovely, and they often wear matching outfits that are stunning..colorful, tasteful, conservative yet full of individual personality and a good dose of charisma. It is clothing that a represents adherence to their faith but with individuality through and through. Burkas/Chadris simply scare me, but so did a visit last summer to my orthodox Jewish brother’s neighborhood in Brooklyn…it was like walking into a 19th century gray and black religious atmosphere where I didn’t fit in and where I certainly did not want to be (I was stared at because: I was a woman wearing jeans; my brother had to continually yell over to people he knew that I was his visiting sister since it would not have been appropriate for him to be walking alone with a woman who was not his wife, even though he is single; I wore my hair in a ponytail and not under a scarf or wig, etc….yeeesh! The only time I felt comfortable in my 24-hour visit, which was before I went to visit my mother in her new home my brother bought for her in Pennsylvania, was when we went to an orthodox Jewish Chinese restaurant and the head waiter was from Shanghai. Phew. Felt at home for a few minutes. My brother was explaining the different types of orthodox Jews in the restaurant. Young couples courting—well, not quite, if they made it out this far alone they were probably seriously considering marriage, a few families but in different styles of clothing so my brother was explaining which branch of Judaism they adhered to…and he was quite amused about the stares at me as here I was in jeans, long hair, sweatshirt, with a man not my husband (although brother would be okay), speaking in Chinese to the waiter…he imagined some interesting stories would be told when these dating couples went home that night…).
5. Kids: Oh, I already wrote about this…but honestly, there are kids everywhere in KL. Living in an apt complex crammed with kids made me realize we are definitely retiring to a “no-children allowed”community…four-legged anything, yes, but kids, no.

*Health/Slowing Down: Thanks to all of you who have been asking. Ultimately, I think when you are insanely busy, year after year, the body just gets on with it until finally there comes a day when the spirit may still be willing but the body just gives out. C’est moi. And my spirit was none too strong either when we left Shanghai. Along with my consulting (which used to be a full-time job until charity/NGO work somehow took over) and being on various non-profit boards/fundraising, the last straw for this usually frenetic, energetic me was starting and running Second Chance Animal Aid. I can understand why it’s great advice to kick a founder off the board and send them far far away after a few years, as starting an organization can make one nearly insane…running it after it is sustainable (or hopefully sustainable), is just not what I consider healthy for the organization. Tired ideas and tired spirit. I am so proud though that the team in place after I left is simply amazing and I am slowing slowing down here in KL. I am currently getting physiotherapy for my right arm/neck/shoulder/hand/jaw (when it rains it pours?!) and trying to slow down and become the taitai I’ve always dreamed of….I would love to have time to just be with my cats, sip a cup of tea and read a non-professional book, get back to lethal exercise and little-black-dress-nights out with my husband, nap at will, work at will (and thereby always have enough to tithe to charity), spend more time helping my dear friend Laurence Brahm with his visions in Western China and Tibet with his Shambhala Foundation (and possibly Nepal…one never knows about him)… and dream the dreams of beaches and walking hand in hand into old age with the man I love. As my mother would say “From your mouth to God’s ears…”. And in Chinese, “Man man Lai” and in Bahasa, “Palan palan”. Meow.

*The book: As mentioned, the book has sold very well in the two places where it was distributed: Shanghai and Hong Kong. I have not seriously attempted to look at other markets as I’m just too tired and lazy. I didn’t write the book for major publication. I am glad I wrote it and I am glad it has positively affected the lives of many people. I do believe in Karma and if it’s meant for any greater audience, it will happen. I have indeed been offered many media interviews and possible publishing in Kuala Lumpur of the book, but I have said no as it would mean getting back into the hectic social scene required when marketing a book and/or the related charity work I always seem to get myself into. Not this time. This mortal body is saying no. I’ve also been offered the possibility of having the book translated into Chinese. Stay tuned (this interests me as it would mean the chance to return to visit old friends, and shop in China….boy KL is expensive!). That is why this is also the last blog for this site I am going to write….as my great grandmother would say “Enough already.”!! If any you would like to contact me for whatever reason, please do at cawolfson@gmail.com .

Finally, the other reason why cats are mentioned in the first paragraph of this blog: I just spent a couple of hours writing on a laptop in paradise when I have two precious cats I must leave in a few days waiting to be cuddled. Writing or kitties? Not a tough choice. Bye all. Thank you for being a part of my life. (and don’t forget…spay and neuter!).