I’ve been having quite some trouble getting into our apartment lately, all due to a strikingly peculiar feline that seems to have become, over the past few months, a permanent resident of our building. About two months or so ago, Ravid and I first took note of the sluggish, haggard creature, clad in disheveled fur and slumped over top of the building’s doorstep. Due to his one-and-a-half ears, we immediately named him Van Gogh.
Van Gogh on Nov. 28, drooling, and seemingly quite ill.
Until recently, Van Gogh would sit idly on the building entrance’s welcome mat, curled into a ball and not making a sound – while drool often seeped out of his mouth. You could step right over him and he wouldn’t know the difference. For a while, I suspected he had rabies, but at this point I’m doubting that assessment, as he most definitely could not still be alive if that was the case.
In the past week or so, however, rather than further embracing his familiarly sluggish state, Van Gogh has taken to following us, as soon as we enter the building. So much so that he chases us downstairs to our front door, blocking the entrance. The only way to get into the apartment sometimes is if we quickly scare him off by a noise like that of dangling keychains, and then slipping inside before he can notice the trick. Right after, however, Van Gogh crouches at the foot of our door and moans loudly for about 45 minutes time, until I suppose he moves back up to his building entrance stance.
Van Gogh two weeks ago, still rather lifeless.
I’m not quite sure what to do about our new feral feline friend, as he could most certainly be diseased, but calling animal control would presumably result in his death. I mean, I know wild cats are pretty much the norm in Jerusalem, but when they moan and circle you and try to get inside your apartment, that’s somewhat of a different story.
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