This little kitty cat is Nancy's Bangkok pet. Oh, how she'd love to keep him if Todd weren't allergic and if it wouldn't be so difficult to have a cat on the road.

Journal and photos by Nancy Olson

I fall in love in every city, sometimes more than once. I can’t help myself. Everywhere we go, I find cute, loveable, snuggly, adorable cats and dogs in need of a home. For whatever reason, they seek me out and weedle their way into my good graces in hopes that I will invite them along on our journey. I give off some sort of vibe that tells the stray puppies and kittens of the world that I am a sucker with a capital ‘S.’

I don’t know how my mother survived my childhood. Over the years, I brought home snakes, lizards, a stray cat with a badly broken leg, kittens, orphaned rabbits and squirrels, guinea fowl eggs (I hatched ‘em in my incubator), fluorescent baby chicks (no lie, they were died for Easter, and I bought three), turtles, tortoises, and hamsters (I had at least five, and they all got sick and died, and they were all named “Jerry.”). I knew better than to bring home any dogs. Mine was a Labrador retriever family, and we had two. When I was little, I was sure I wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up.

Well, not much has changed in my old age. At 31, I still have the adolescent instinct to rescue every cute animal I come across. When you are traveling the world, you come across quite a lot of cute animals who could seriously use a good, safe, healthy home.

I cannot tell you how many dogs I have fallen in love with since we left the U.S. seven months ago. There was one at the Guatemala border that ripped my heart out. He was so skinny and broken down that I would be surprised if he lived through the next day. We couldn’t do anyting for him, but later I realized we should have bought him a nice big hamburger. The shock of such rich food would have killed him, but it would have been humane, and he’d have died happy.

Wretched dog at the Mexico/Guatemala border. Poor thing. He broke our hearts, because he was beyond help.

Later, in the coastal desert area of Chile, I fell in love with a ragged adolescent dog who had a bit of a dingo look to him. He attached himself to me at a fuel stop, and I asked Nick if we could keep him. I always ask Nick if we can keep the strays I find, and he always says, “Yes.” But the reality of trying to keep a dog on the road and my inherent fear of commitment (having a dog is a commitment of 8-15 years) always prevents me from adopting a dog. Strays make such good pets, though, probably because they are so thankful to be well-fed and off the streets, and I’ve met some especially good dogs. And if I’d kept the one from Chile, I could have referred to him as my “Chile Dog.” Get it?

Nancy's Chile Dog

When we ran out of gas in Chile, I met a tiny little scruffy black dog whom Nick said I could keep. Luckily, he or she ran off with a pack of neighborhood mongrels, and I remained unburdened of another little mouth to feed.

Little black dog from Chile. Cute, but unfaithful.

At the subsequent fuel stop after we had been stranded on the road, I could have adopted a whole pack of cute dogs. They swarmed the fuel pumps but ran away when we tried to pet them. Eventually, though, they all let me pet them, and soon I was swarmed by mama dog and puppies. I didn’t keep any of those little guys, either.

I’m quite partial to dogs, but I also have a soft spot in my heart for good cats. Good cats are the ones who think they are dogs. The one who had a broken leg when I found him and rescued him as a kid turned out to be the best cat in the whole-wide world. He was pewter gray, with big yellow eyes and no tail whatsoever. He was a Manx, which means he was born without one. He had to have two pins put in his leg, and I worked off the veterinary bill by repacking supplies and cleaning up in the vet clinic. See, Drs. Lolly and Bobby Wilson of Meadowbrook Animal Hospital were friends of ours, and they knew I wanted to be a veterinarian. They mentored me, and, at the age of 12, I was assisting in surgeries. It was quite a good experience, and I have my mom and those doctors to thank for it. (It wasn’t until high school that I decided there was too much math, too much school, and too many work hours for me to become a vet. I chose the Naval Academy and military life, instead.)

But I digress. See, I have met many kittens along the way who were worthy of a place in my home. The problem, though, is that A) I don’t have a home, and B) Todd, my driving partner, is intensely allergic to cats. I’m allergic to cats, too, but not so much that I don’t want one. Todd’s argument, though, is a strong one, and I won’t be taking any cats into our mobile abode.

Oh, but there was a cat in the barrio section outside of La Paz, Mexico, that I just fell for. She was on the sidewalk near an automotive repair shop, and she was covered in oil. She was dehydrated, lethargic, and hungry, but she was purring through it all. I carried her around for a while, and I tried to talk Adam into keeping her, but we ended up getting her some food and putting her back at the repair shop. The film guys can’t have a cat, either, because Colin is allergic. I miss that cat.

Later, in Patagonia, I found a kitten that wasn’t more than a week or two old who kept wandering into the road. He looked exactly like one of my childhood cats, Kermit, who was a black-and-gray tabby. That cat was cool, and he even won a prize at a cat show once. I tried to convince Adam and Neil to keep that one, too, but no dice. I fed him and put him in front of a vet clinic.

Well, all of this is leading up to my current love, or infatuation, or whatever you call it. Here in Bangkok, dogs and cats are everywhere in the city. But the thing is, they all look fairly healthy, and many of the dogs wear collars. There’re tons of street vendors, and I think they keep the strays fed with their leftovers and clean-up time. In our alley, there are several food vendors, a couple of dogs, and at least a half-dozen cats. On our second or third night here, I was befriended by the cutest, nicest little kitten. Like the awesome cat I found as a kid, the best cat I ever owned, a cat even my cat-hating dad loved, this one has no tail. He’s a Manx. He looks like a creamsicle , white with orange splotches. He’s street-wise already, and he’s lanky. I brought him home to our hotel the first night I met him, and he slept in the crook of my arm all night and never left the bed. Reluctantly and out of necessity, I put him back in the gutter the next morning.

I saw him again a couple of days later. He ran over to me and wouldn’t leave me alone. He followed me and pounced on my flip-flops to make me stop. I picked him up and took him with me on my walk to the sidewalk sales and back.

Since then, I’ve seen him dozens more times, and he always recognizes me. There is something special about that cat, and I think there might be something special about Manx kitties in general. I have a feeling he would be the best cat in the world, just like my long-lost childhood Manx kitty. I wish there were some way I could keep him, but I’m afraid there isn’t. I even contemplated shipping him to my parents (my poor parents), but he’d have to go through the horrors of quarantine, and he might come out of there an altered and irritable being.

So, for now, I’ll just continue to make sure he’s alright when I see him in the alley. One day, he’ll be all grown up and on the prowl, and he’ll probably wind up with scratches on him like most of the banged-up tomcats I see around here. For now, though, he’s cute as a button and looking for love. Anybody interested? I’ll ship him to ya.

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