Updated: Dec 29, 2022
We met them--Alexei and Zlata in the heart of Kotor. We knew, at once, they were of our ilk, the pile of kittens upon them.
Talking for hours, strolling around the city's winding cobblestone streets, learning how to curse in Russian, petting cats, talking about everything from psychology to finance, from Jordan Peterson to cinema. We drank together in communion until the early hours of morning inside this little jazz club--Evergreen in the center of Kotor's Old Town.
That's when a very special cat caught my eye.
Jiro, a feline with more fat angst than his body could seem to contain came plodding over to me, claimed me as his own and curled himself up at my side, using a pillow as barricade from all other outside contact.
I was chosen.
He permitted no other mortal to touch him.
We ended the evening with James trying to drink at pace with a Russian and Crimean, a glass being broken and Jiro voicing his displeasure at the naughty conduct from the human slaves.
The server came around to help us with clean-up, and the fellas made trips to the W.C. for paper towels to clean up the spill. Zlata attempted, bravely, to dole out a few love pats, but Jiro wasn't having it.
The server said Jiro never lets anyone touch him; he had been injured once before, and was quite sensitive. It was special, him permitting me to love on him.
And that is the story of Jiro, the jazz cat. My roly-poly-tiny-tabby house panther.