Three Cats On-the-Go
Fur Flies While Backpacking in Nicaragua
For over two weeks I had been staying at a well-known hostel off of the central square in Granada, Nicaragua. It was around 2005, or so. I had gotten to know some of the other people staying there, at least anyone who was there for more than a couple of days, and I had also gotten to know the guy who owned the place.
The owner had glasses and cut his blondish hair into a crew cut, like some army dude. He was from Las Vegas, and he swore that despite what people might think about Vegas, with all of its glitz and glamor and decadence, it was a great place to grow up and a terrific place to raise a family.
In addition to the owner and some the regulars, I had also gotten to know all of the cats that lived at the hostel, of which there were many, and of all types. There were long hairs, short hairs, tabbies, calicoes, and many mixes of all of those and more. The cats would mill about, at their own speed, as if they owned the place. In some ways I guess they did. Backpackers, for the most part, ignored them.
One particular cat struck a chord with me. She was a tortoiseshell, which means she was covered in orange and black patches, in case you don’t know your cats. She was smallish, and cute, with yellow eyes. What I noticed early on was that she had a distinct way of…
