July 12th, 2016. Around 10:30 p.m., I was driving home through the dark village of Manna, Abby in the car.
In the middle of the road, I saw something. A tiny mass. A small cat, lying in blood. I slowed, stopped, and gently moved it to the curb. It was breathing, barely, but alive.
A month had passed since my dad died, and the sight of suffering hit close to home. I couldn’t leave it there. I had a piece of cardboard in the car, so I carefully lifted the kitten into the car. Abby sniffed curiously the whole way home. My heart was heavy, but at least it would die somewhere warm.
At home, I made a small bed with a box, an old blanket, and a towel. I decided: if it survived the night, I would take it to the vet.
Morning came. It was still breathing. I rushed it to the vet and asked if there was any chance of a normal life. He stabilized the kitten, repaired a broken jaw, and started fluids. Later, he warned me it might be blind, unresponsive to light.
I had to return to Athens for my dad’s 40-day memorial, so I left the kitten in care, knowing it needed the vet more than me. When I returned to Syros, I picked up a skinny little orange male, roughly three months old, with a slightly crooked jaw. Abby instantly loved him.
I named him first Roulis, after my dad, then Yoda, and finally Judo, after watching a judo match on TV while he curled up next to me, staring at the screen as if curiously following the action.
He grew into a fully fluffy, sensitive, shy, and loving cat. He can see — maybe not perfectly, sometimes missing his jumps — but he navigates his safe home like any other cat.
We took him back to Syros a few times, but the outdoors stressed him. Athens became his sanctuary. He gets along wonderfully with Abby and Olive, Irini’s Cavalier, and we have photos of them napping together.
Funny enough, a few days after Judo came home, someone dropped off another tiny kitten — tri-colored this time. She became Nina’s cat Chanel.
Kiki's Memos 