ode to sylvester (no rocky 6)

after being in santa marta for a couple of days and in tyrona national park, anna and i took refuge in the coastal mountains of colombia. the mountains go up pretty high - i think they are the highest coastal mountins in the world, but, we only went up 600 meters or so to a house called 'cape diem'. it is basically a familys house and they have rooms for people to stay in. the whole area is made up of farms and communes who grow things and subsist that way.

their property has a number of farms and closer to the house, a grouping of hammocks with a fireplace in the middle. anna and i spent the two plus days we were there sitting in those hammocks, sitting by the nearby river soaking our feet, or sipping on coffee that was brought to us with astonishing frequency by the house mother. there were coffee plants on the property and so we can relly say that we were drinking fresh colombian coffee.

they had two animals. one was a neighbors dog that came around a lot. nobody seemed to like him, as they always were shooing him away. he was rail thin with the ears of a donkey. a bazaar looking creature. the other was a cat named sylvester- a fat orange cat who seems to look to garfield for spiritual guidance. my first encounter with sylvester was as i was lying in the hammock, seeing him trot by with no particular speed as the familys boy ran after him with a bucket of water. later, sylvester came back to introduce himself to me and anna. he walked by and i grabbed him. i have a whole new view on cats now that i kind of own some back in cuenca. not only are cats for throwing, ive learned, but they can be played with as well. who knew? anyway sylvester lay down and turned over to let me rub his belly and while my hand was there, he very deliberately grabbed onto it with his paws lowered his head and chomped my hand. he didnt break the skin, but i was sure that it was his intention to do so. the house mother was around, so i didnt throw him. but, i knew then that there would be war.

the next time i saw him was at dinner. sylvester liked to lay around for hours on end, but when it came time to eat, he was always there, walking through you legs as you sat, rubbing against them to let you know that he was there and that if you wanted to give him food, he would be there. the house mother treated him like a child and gave him food at every turn, so to her he meowed and follwed. but he also spent some time quietly under the table. while he was there, near my feet, i decided that i would get back at him by kicking him (gently). i kicked, but he didnt move. all he did was close his eyes, as though to wish me away. so i stopped and thought of another plan of attack. later, when he was close enough to my hand, i began poking him on his head and plucking him in his ribs. i didnt want to hurt him, only to bother him a lot. still, his head would bob as it was poked, but come right back to position each time. the plucks did not bother him through his great belly. i was willing to let it rest that evening until i saw him eating some leftover chicken the house mother gave to him. so, i went to him and began tugging on his whiskers. he just kept on eating. i shook him in his stomach region hoping that it would agitate him enough that me may throw up. no such luck. then, anna and i began playing cards.

outside our room, next to the card table, there is a comfortable chair. sylvester sleeps in this chair. he sleeps all curled up with his paws covering his face and his face in his stomach. however, when i came around after playing cards, i lifted him and placed him on the table. while he was in the air, he either growled or purred a bit, but i think he was just surpirsed. when i let him go on the table, hs shook himself from head to toe and began licking his stomach furiously. i moved the chairs from around the table and sylvester didnt seem apt to jump down from such a height so he just stood on the table. and looked around. unsatisfied with his level of being bothered, i then draped one of my shirts over him and without being able to see, he tried to walk out from under the shirt but the shirt moved with him. as i saw him about to back off of the table, i lifted the shirt and pushed him back onto the table and it occured to me that i really didnt want to see him hurt. only bothered. then it occured to me that he really wasnt reacting to my provocations. i was expecting a hiss or a running away or something. but instead he proved himself to be the ghandi or dr king of cats (except that he did bite me). he just stood there and took my provocations without fighting back until i got tired of it and put him back in his chair.

the next morning i woke up to find sylvester sleeping in that same chair and i put a leaf in his ear to tickle him awake and all he did was twitch his ear. so instead, i decided to rub his neck and pet his head. finally he let me rub his belly without him biting me. im not sure if this means that we made up or not.