The Postscript: Other mothers

Over the weekend, Felix met his three other mothers.

Felix is our cat, and we adopted him from Mexico. We are now back in Mexico for the first time since we adopted him and, of course, Felix is with us.

When my husband, Peter, and I first discussed adopting a cat, I had in mind some needy little creature who would cuddle on my lap when I read. Instead, we got Felix.

Felix was a street cat for two years before he was scooped up by his foster mothers. He was very skinny when they found him. He is black and white, with silky fur and a sly grin, and he is not at all interested in sitting on anyone’s lap. Instead, he likes to tear around the house like a maniac and play games with Peter and nibble my toes to show he cares. He’s a good traveler, and he did not seem to mind either moving to the U.S. or getting in his backpack carrier and coming back to Mexico.

I had half-hoped there might be a mariachi band playing when we landed, congratulating Felix on his triumphant return. Instead, we were met by a customs official who made a photocopy of Felix’s health records, took his temperature, and wished us all a pleasant visit.

Once we got to our little apartment surrounded by painted suns and got all our stuff back into the usual cupboards and cabinets, we contacted Felix’s foster mother, Marcela, and told her we were back, and said we would love to have her over for cake.

Felix’s foster mother works at the environmental preserve where Peter takes his long daily walk. She lives with her sister and her sister’s daughter, and they all live with whatever animals they have collected and are caring for on that particular day. At present, there are two cats, four birds and eleven dogs.

“I think she spends all of her salary on animal food!” Marcela’s boss told Peter. Marcela has a big heart. She was delighted to come with her sister and niece to our apartment for cake and to see how Felix was doing.

“Do you think they’ll be surprised how big he is?” Peter asked.

“They’ll think he’s fat!” I said.

I was a little nervous because I knew that having them over for cake would be a challenge. They speak almost no English, and Peter speaks no Spanish, so I am the one who is supposed to be translating for everyone, and I do not speak enough Spanish to be a translator.

But it really didn’t matter because no one was there to listen to me. They were there to visit Felix.

“Oh! He’s big.” That’s what they all said — and even Peter understood that.

“He is!” I agreed. “Do you think he’s fat?” The two women and the young girl all looked at Felix very seriously while eating their carrot cake.

“No,” they all said, after a moment’s consideration. They did not think he was too fat.

“But he is a little spoiled, don’t you think?” I asked.

All three of them laughed and said, no, he couldn’t be spoiled because he was a precious cat, and he deserved the best — and even Felix understood that.

So we finished our carrot cake, and the young girl played with her bubble machine, which looked like a camera but shot out bubbles, which Felix thought was very exciting.

“He has found a good family,” Marcela said.

“We are all Felix’s family now,” I told her. And everyone agreed — especially Felix.

Till next time,

Carrie