I guess it was to be expected. A little bit of Buddhism was bound to rub off on me no matter how much I resist adhering to any religious philosophy. But more lethal than religion is the combination of religion, culture and veterinarians.
It all started with Ceiba. Named after the enormous, notoriously strong, tropical tree I learned of while in Latin America. My cat had absolutely no resemblance to his name. He was constantly whining when left alone, while his sister Sofia (pictured above) hunted rats, and cowering under her when threatened by the neighbor's psychotic cat. Well, long story short, Ceiba died on my local Thai vet's table after he (the vet) had floundered hopelessly with every gadget he could find in his little, ill-equipped, clinic (obviously no bitterness here) and attempted to poke, prod, and even pound my kitten with these various tools. And go figure, with his sound approach to diagnosis and treatment, Ceiba seized and died right there on the table. Now, as I was keeled over, crying (admittedly a little melodramatically), the vet proceeded to run behind a partition and hide. I called for him, asking what the hell to do with my deceased cat's body, but no response. He just stood there, behind the thin curtain that separated us (but in no way hid him), until I gave up and left his office with my rigamortis-prone feline. Angry, I thought what an incompetent excuse for an animal doctor and vowed never to return.
Well, I broke that vow and immediately returned upon discovering Sofia (Ceiba's much stronger, independent, sister) extremely ill and panting heavily. As I dismounted my motorbike in front of his office, I noticed him sitting at his desk and thought "thank Whoever Up There he is here!." However, by the time I took off my shoes and entered his clinic, he had abandoned his desk and was no where to be found. Naturally, I called for him, until a small Burmese boy came out and managed (with great difficulty) to get out the message "mai mee mai mee" (not here not here). I eloquently retorted "ti ni ti ni" (here, here) and pointed to his now empty desk where he was just seen sitting like 40 seconds before. The boy insisted with a an unsure repetition of his learned Thai phrase and I thought, how could this sweet looking boy just lie to my face. But lie he did, and as a pretty damn good liar myself, I have to give him credit for sticking to his story. I contemplated sweeping back the curtain and revealing Dr. Oz, but resisted. After all, how many other 11 year old Burmese bodyguards might he keep back there. So, I left and continued my search for a vet who could save my Sofia. Well, five vets later (including a large animal clinic with an billboard advertisement of raw beef cuts out front...dark humor if you ask me), I finally found a lovely pair of female vets to care for my helpless pet.
Now this pair deserves a short introduction. Pi Oom is the vet with actual medical knowledge. Her assistant, however, seems to have no medical knowledge whatsoever. But for what she lacks in training, she makes up for in bed side manner. She is a stout, but rather "round" woman who is all giggles and absolutely adores anything with fur. I know this because upon bringing a dying Sofia into her clinic, Pi Oom proceeded with the anticipated diagnostic questions, while her assistant produced a high pitch squeal as she wildly rubbed her face on Sofia's belly. Sofia had been in great pain for days. FIV -- Feline Immunodeficiency Virus. After a series of sleepless nights, where I repeatedly threw myself on her (not my entire weight mind you...I wasn't trying to kill her myself), and asking to the sky "Whyyyyyy???? Whyyyyy?", I had decided to let her go. After visiting every vet in Mae Sot (yet again) and repeatedly being told there was nothing to be done, I asked Pi Oom, if she would kindly put her to sleep. Well, it never crossed my mind that this being a Buddhist country and all, Pi Oom refused to kill another living thing....and so did Pi Chit...and so did Pi Sukit...and so on and so on. Funny how this seems to apply to painfully dying animals, but there seems to be no issues in chopping down every goddamn tree in my neighborhood, or beating your wife. But it's these little cultural dichotomies that keep one guessing, I guess.
Anyway, after concluding that not a single qualified vet in Mae Sot would kill my cat, I asked the only unqualified person that would. My neighbor. My neighbor is a what one would call a "handy man". He has fixed everything for me from replacing a fake tooth of mine on the wooden bench of my porch to burying my other deceased cat in his back yard. He's the guy you call in a pinch of any sort, and just, well, gets the job done. So, when I approached him about euthanizing my Sofia, he asked no questions and appeared on my doorstep with some combination of strong anesthetics (for her) and a bottle of vodka (for me). After a painful 5 hours, she lulled off into an infinite sleep and my neighbor carried her body home to be buried next to her brother in his back yard. Thank you neighbor...
So, least to say this had been a learning experience in a multitude of ways.
1. Don't get a cat in Thailand. Just don't. The survival rate of cats in this country is basically long enough to form attachments but not long enough for them to have a satisfying life or die with dignity.
2. Be nice to your neighbors. If you should ever need some cheap dental work, or an immediate home euthanizing, who else you gonna turn to?
3. If you should decide not to take my first piece of advice (which I didn't), get every single fricking vaccination on the planet injected into your little furry friend.
So, that is just what I have done. I adopted a friend's cat who needed a home, (I know...I'm a sucker), and immediately upon doing so, took her straight to my two lady friend vets to be shot up with every drug in the book. I kept pointing to my new pet saying in the sort of English one would only speak to a special needs, deaf person "heealllthy.....heealthyyyyyy" to ensure that they were sure what I meant. Well, turns out they thought that was the name of the cat and retorted with a large smile "Oh...Sukapatdi ("healthy" in Thai)!" So that is her name, and after two years, "Sukapatdi" she is and going strong...
...for now.
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