We (sorta) have a cat named Yoda; after the famous Jedi Master (of course) that helps to maintain the positive energy in the Universe. I hope you can see the resemblance.

Here she is chillin’ on Craig’s lap during his visit. I can’t tell which one was enjoying it more, can you?

Here she was about 2 weeks ago, pregnant and tired.

She’s not actually our cat: She belongs to the neighborhood, and probably more accurately, to the “peasants.” Yes, they are called peasants, for real.

In case you didn’t realize it, I’m referring to life at our Dacha again. Animals tend to roam freely out in the country – often from house to house in search of grub – and this one has taken a fancy to us and the sausage we routinely provide; kinda like we’ve taken a fancy to her. She’s sweet, has some sort of inner ear infection (shakes her head a lot), and possesses very strange meow… but hey, beggers can’t be choosers, and she sorta chose us. She’s not the most beautiful кошка (female cat), but she’s quite friendly, purrs when you pet her, and is a total slut. She had a litter last year, and I think at least two of the offspring (both males) are still hanging around the village. One of them, a black and white spotted one, is also friendly and loves the sausage we bring every weekend. We even make special stops just for those four-legged varmants. They like the bologna type, the meaty/grissly kind, and especially the liverwurst stuff.

Here’s the чёрный у белый кот (black and white cat):

Because of the relationship that we’ve developed over the course of the last year (last summer/fall and this spring/summer), Yoda has obviously come to like us a lot. She spends most of her time around our place, and one can tell, she has begun to think of our dacha as her home, too.

Here I am chillin’ with her:

I think she has shied away from the peasant’s house, because life is definitely more raw over there. (you should know the peasant’s house is not more than a mere 75 meters (and a fence) away).

Rawness… I’ll give you an example: In late May, Yoda was also pregnant. We were not at our dacha as frequently as we are now (which is basically every weekend for 3 or 4 days (Friday-Monday), with Mom being there almost full-time), and Yoda had no choice but to have her kittens where she thought they would be safe and where she could continue to obtain regular sustenance (particularly milk from the cow, and table scraps). The peasants, on the other hand, had (have) no interest in supporting any more cats, as they already have 6 or 7 — they usually see the animals simply as just more mouths to feed. So, as cruel as it may sound, they simply drowned the kittens a day or two after they were born (as soon as they were discovered). I don’t know how many there were, but they were all sacrificed. Wait, I was just told that there were supposedly 5 in that litter.
Anyway, life goes on… and as soon as the (dead) kittens failed to suckle, the mother began moaning again and roaming the dirt roads and back yards — through the night, and day, and night, and day…. She was obviously feeling the motherly instinct more than ever, and proceeded to get knocked-up again.

Unbelievable – it was the first time I had seen cats do it. Normally you hear their cries of passion under the cover of darkness… but no, not this time. This time I was working on my motorcycle in broad daylight, and she was parading around the yard, running around the house, from back yard to front yard, to the neighbors yard and back again – with a small gaggle of 3 or 4 males attentively following her every movement. She must have been wafting some hardcore pheromones from her hind end.

Here’s a pic. I couldn’t resist.

Awww… shoot. Sorry. I looked, but I guess I didn’t have my camera at the time. That’s right, no pic of the animal sex here, sorry. Move along…

Anyhow, to make a long story shorter… two months have passed since that fateful day: it was a naughty, brief, broad-daylight, semi-violent, neck-biting, move the tail to the side sorta passionate feline fling — right in the middle of our front yard with 2 other cats (and me, of course) cheering the big stud on.

So about 2 weeks ago we really got the sense that Yoda was about to pop; plus we had counted that ~60 of the 65 days (standard cat pregnancy, as I’m sure you know) had passed. Yoda was semi-frantically looking for a [new] place to have her kittens. She surely didn’t want to have them at the peasant’s house again, as the grim reaper (Valla, the Mom) lives there also, duh! I think she’s the one that milks the cow too. Nice lady, but cold hands. Good milk though. Damn good.

I guess I shouldn’t judge peasant’s behavior. That’s how life is out here in the countryside of Ukraine. Raw and Real. They simply don’t want any more cats around. That’s it. It’s simple. There’s no such thing as spaying or neutering out here – it’s just life. Peasants own a cat to catch the mice; which, incidentally, love to live in the haystacks that are all over the place. See below.

In fact, our local peasants (the ones we are the closest friends with) have a couple of cats to catch the mice and other undesirables. When those cats begin procreating, the only recourse is to eliminate the offspring you don’t want/need. So, they do, and without conscience. No shit. I understand it on an intellectual level, but damn, it seems pretty cruel on an emotional level — to me, that is.

That being said, and as I previously mentioned, Yoda has befriended our family and house. Indeed, while we were in Kiev last week, and my mother in law was at the dacha, Yoda snuck up into our attic and made a comfy little nest on a warm bed of exposed fiberglass insulation (hopefully they won’t mind a bit of glass on their asses).

Have a look… this week, she had the KITTENS! 4 of them!

and another pic, just for fun.

Here’s one of them at about 2 days old:

We took off for Monday-Friday, and returned this past weekend. I took this picture when they were well-fed and sleeping. Yoda was downstairs relaxing. I think the flash woke these guys up Actually, I’m not sure whether they are girls or boys, I haven’t looked.

You can see that their eyes are open, and they are starting to cruising around the make-shift den, thanks to the microwave we just bought.
What are we going to do with them now, I asked my genius wife?

Her response: “I think we will bring them to the market, and have them sold. If not, I guess we’ll keep them for a while. But winter is coming… and there’s no way they’ll make it out here without some help.” I said, “Ugh.”

Nevertheless, they are really cute, and I’m happy that they weren’t drowned by Valla-the-peasant-reaper.

So far, so good. The kittens are growing rapidly!

I’ll keep you posted. Cheers!