Gaticuchi

Our first cat, when we moved to Vancouver, we found outside our Burnaby compound as a kitten. We immediately gave him an endearing name, Gaticuchi. Why?

In our family there had been a tradition at least since the late 50s in Mexico City where I called my mother Mamuchi. And so when our daughters were born, Hilary became Hilaruchi and Alexandra Alejandruchi. Our two granddaughters, Rebecca and Lauren escaped this tradition and I am sure they are glad. And my Rosemary inherited Mamuchi (I was the only one who called her by that name). Because of our granddaughters using a version in Spanish of abuela for grandmother, Rosemary became Abi.

In Mexican Spanish, something that is disgusting and evil-smelling is fuchi. I do not think that our uchis have any connection with fuchi.

My two cats, Niño and Niña, with whom I converse in Spanish, I might ask Niño, “¿Como estás Niñomuchi? I also call Niño and Niña Niñomuchipus and Niñamuchipus. Sometimes they are Muchi or Puchi.

They come to me no matter what I call them. They are smart. At around 7:30 every day I continue a tradition that Rosemary started on our bed. She would say, “Treats!”and the cats would instantly respond. I have recently found out that when I tell them, “I am going to give you your t-r-e-a-t-s,” they know that it spells treats and they become alert.

Gaticuchi did not have cancer. Writer Sean Rossiter's cat did. He wrote about it for Vancouver Magazine. Editor Malcolm Parry commanded me to photograph my cat and to make sure his whiskers were sharp.

Niño does have cancer. Five months ago he seemed to be on his last legs. My good vet prescribed a human cancer pill that I give him every other day. He is back to his old self. When he lies on top of me I wonder who will go first.