Pee

The unfortunate subject of this post is ... yes, pee.

Pee has been lurking at the corners of my life in a city where there is no open dirt or grass but people insist on keeping dogs.

Sometimes intuition is wrong. Or maybe it is just that nobody can comfort you but yourself. You shouldn't trust motherly figures in a foreign country - you never know how they live until you end up surrounded by mire.

Maybe the Universe, or God is punishing me for the times I have complained against my mother. There have been times when I wished she would have been less particular and more relaxed. I think what I have now is the opposite: someone wonderfully relaxed (also with a big heart and no emotional games and really easy to live with - what my intuition told me) but dirty. She almost gets annoyed with my trying to be so uptight as to do the dishes right away after I eat.

Her dog is nice, but I am not comfortable living with dogs. He needs a good brushing; he is constantly scratching himself with his hind foot, flicking God knows what around the room, including my bedroom, until today. The kitchen towel has dog hairs on it, so I never know how to dry my hands, and either don't, or have to wipe them on my skirt. So does the counter, at times. The dish cloths are usually randomly bunched up beside the sink or in it, and it is unclear what each one is used for. One at least, seems to be used for washing, often with dirty water still in it, as well as for placing on the counter to leave things to dry on top of.

I should have run in the opposite direction on the first day, when I asked if I could flush toilet paper (can't be done here in some buildings), and she told me that if I didn't mind, to just put it in the kitchen garbage. I've lived in China. I've kept my used toilet paper in a plastic bag beside the toilet for a whole year and never really minded. I did the same in Jerez last summer. Amazingly, if you are discrete and polite about how you do things, it doesn't even smell or attract flies. Luckily when I told her I needed to keep it in the bathroom, she told me just to flush it.

The real problem is having to face an unflushed toilet and a continually dirty toilet seat.

Nevertheless, I was dealing with all of that somehow, but this morning has sent me over the edge. I have turned very suddenly from a cat-lover to someone who wants to strangle the poor, cute (I am clenching my teeth as I write that) little thing. There are two cats who live on the roof. I had difficulty ascertaining whether or not they were wild, whether they were hers, or whose. I think she is ashamed of feeding and treating them nicely. I also should have run in the opposite direction the first day when she showed me the trastero (storage space) where the washing machine is, and a cat came running out of the locked door. Then she said to stand back because the smell of urine is kind of strong.

Well last night that is exactly what happened to my suitcase, and my flamenco shoes. My made to measure flamenco shoes...

I was at home alone for half an hour, making dinner and the cats were whining to be let in. Mercedes often leaves the door to the terrace open, obviously in this hot weather. I was a bit worried about the cats coming in. I shoe-d them out, but when Mercedes came home they came back in. She let them hang out in the living room for a while, which she previously didn't do - she seemed to want them to stay out. I knew they were in my room because I heard one scratching and tearing at the bedspread and shoed it out.

This morning everything made sense - why it stinks in the house, mostly in the kitchen. Probably the cats have peed there before. And she told me, while cleaning my suitcase with ammonia (which did nothing), that they had peed in her bed. Well, duh!

I love cats, and they are not that hard to train... I lack understanding of what is going on here... why on earth would one not train them? And why would one let them in, knowing that they are not?

Another problem for me is that the place is very small. My room has a very big window, the only one that lets in light from the south and west during the day. She is used to having my room door open for light and air, so the dog can wander in and scratch himself with his fleas or mites or dandruff flying everywhere, in the pleasant breezes of my room. I asked her if she could please keep my door closed during the day if she has the outside door open. She said she is always watching to make sure the cats never go in there. Hmmmmm... and so how exactly did they get into the storage room, or into my room last night. It ended with her telling me to keep my door closed then, if I wanted. She was nice, and not mean about it. But none of this is comfortable at all.

Anyways, I guess I need to move again, just as soon as I moved. The ghetto was less stressful than having your stuff peed on by a cat. I really would rather deal with cigarette smoke seeping into my space, I think, and a noisy grandmother late at night, and a moldy shower.

Well, there is one other Sevillan woman my mom's age who is looking after me, and she is undoubtedly cool, and knows better than to let cats pee on people's things. Or to leave her own pee so it can be witnessed by others in various ways when they need to use the toilet.