Firstly, let's get down to the basics; 'Meshugana', if you don't know, is a Yiddish word, meaning 'nutcase':
And, ever since she was born, she has displayed those nutcase-like qualities, time and time again. But, as they say, it takes one to know one, and I like her style ;)
|'Eze cador!' - snuggled like a ball|
|A few days old|
|Feeding with her brother, Marcus.|
As soon as she could open her tiny little eyes, and as soon as she had strength enough to walk, she would jump out of the protective box her mum kept her in without really knowing how to climb, or jump for that matter. But she tried and tried until she finally succeeded. What a meshugana!
She's a charmer too! Meshugana was (back in the ulpan days) the talk of the town, being such a cutie. I mean, just look at that panim!
|Nom nom nom|
Back in those ulpan days I would sit with Mummy, Meshugana and her brother, Marcus (more of whom later) most of the time. I would literally leave class to play with the kitties; on my way to work, on my way back from work and in the evenings. They were one of the only good things about living in that horrible environment for so long.
And then, the day came when I had to leave and start my adventure in Tel Aviv. I often thought of Meshugana - indeed, it felt a bit like I was reliving the separation from Corny Wallace all over again.
But, I knew I couldn't keep a cat, as my first apartment wouldn't allow it, and neither would my current. I had to keep telling myself that she was a street cat ('Street cat! Street cat! I don't buy that. But if they looked cloooserrrr...') and there was nothing I could do.
And then, due to an, ahem, 'positive change of circumstances', I found myself back at that bloody ulpan at least once a week (the weird shit love makes you do, amirite?), and seeing Meshugana every so often. She looked very thin, and Mummy was pregnant again, and I couldn't find Marcus (I surmised he had died), but she was definitely the Meshugana kitty I had raised and loved.
To put a long story short, the day came when I finally brought Meshugana home. It involved rather strange convolutions, such as a vociferous and self-proclaiming cat-hater, who suddenly fell in love with Meshugana ('but I still hate other cats'), several night shifts, and a very snuggly, purry kitty.
It took 5 months or so, but finally - Meshugana was mine (or ours)! I went to buy her all of her things and then to pick her up from the ulpan. After a quick stop at the vets, she was home - and soon, she was as meshugana as ever:
|Even when I am unwell. Such a nice kiiiitty.|
|She also does a great line in posing.|
And that's really all there is to tell. Other than I passed my driving test (thank gd) and the State of Israel is willing to acknowledge that I can competently drive with the gearstick on the wrong side!