Paka's Emergency Surgery Fund

This is hard to write. Paka is about to undergo emergency surgery on Friday, January 5th.

Paka Mwizi (Cat Thief in Swahili), lived up to her name this New Year’s Eve and stole some tinsel** from the Christmas tree. The tinsel has moved from her stomach to her intestines. The x-rays show that the tinsel is acting like a fishing line, causing the intestines to bunch up like an accordion. The veterinarians at North Bend Animal Clinic will be taking the best care to remove it during exploratory surgery.

To aid with Paka’s surgery costs I am looking to raise $3,000 to keep her little heart going. Unfortunately, this potentially life-saving surgery is more than I can personally afford at this time, but we do the things we can for the ones we love.

As you may now, Paka is from Tanzania during my Peace Corps service. One of my favorite phrases from Tanzania is dunia duara. It means ‘The Earth is round.’ It is said to people leaving one’s home. Instead of goodbye, it is saying ‘no matter where you travel, the world is round so you will return to my home.’ As Paka leaves our home tomorrow for surgery, I am telling her dunia duara. I hope she returns to the front door of our home again.

Thank you to everyone who has given Paka the wonderful amazing life she has already led. She is a people cat and I know she has loved any lap she’s sat on. I cannot thank you enough in advance for donating to her, it is hard to ask for help especially when there are so many other causes in this world that need our attention.

**To all pet owners, please use this as a lesson: NEVER have tinsel in your home (for cats and dogs), and do NOT wait if you think they have ingested it. I had no idea it could be the cause of such painful harm and potential death. My guilt weighs heavy.

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Paka is my family, she chose me from day one. You may know the story of how I got her, it's my favorite one to tell. (She is snuggled up next to me as I write this, it feels fitting to share).

Tanga, Tanzania // July 2016

Peering through the veiled bug net, I stared at the space between the end of the brick wall and the tin roof. Pitter, pitter, pitter. It was normal to hear the paws of rats at night, scurrying around the tops of the walls like a maze built just for them.

It wasn’t but a few weeks since I moved into Mama Joyce’s house. She was married to Baba and they were most joyful to be hosting me for my three-month Peace Corps pre-service training. Their son Eriki and his cousin slept in the room next to mine. I assumed they were slumbering peacefully, accustomed to the rats above.

The pittering grew louder and interrupted my anxieties about teaching a biology lesson at the Secondary School the next day.

“Go to sleep, Liz. It’s just a rat.”

Pitter, pitter. Nothing. And then BAM.

All at once Mr. Giant Ass Rat was face to face with me on my pillow. I screamed the most blood-curdling scream a fresh Peace Corps Volunteer in training could muster when she faced a rat in bed.

Que comedic music.

Within seconds, the light flicked on. Mama, Baba, Eriki and his cousin were all in my little room, with me standing on the bed wailing and Mr. Giant Ass Rat flaunting his agility by running circles around us.

Eriki did the brave thing. He hurdled a deathly blow in the rat’s direction but Mr. Giant Ass Rat was too slick and slipped into the cracks of my dresser.

Laughter erupted.

I tried speaking in Swahili but it was still new to my lips, “Ninahitaji Paka kupata panya.”

What I thought I said: “You need to get a cat to catch the rat.”

What I actually said: “I need to get a cat to catch the rat.”

And so it was. The next day, I came home from a fun day teaching to Mama standing in the living room.

“Liz, we have a gift!” Dangling by its scruff, was the most disgusting-looking kitten I had ever seen. Tufts of hair missing, eyes watering, flea-ridden and God knows what else.

I immediately told Mama to put her down and not to touch her without gloves or plastic bags on her hands. But despite my warnings of disease and fleas, Mama insisted we keep her. It was Mama’s way of showing her love. Thus, paka (cat) was named Paka (Cat), the newest member of the household.

For the following days, Paka would sneak meat, rice and tomatoes from the kitchen. She climbed on everything, except my bed. I tracked down the village vet to get a flea powder to rid the fleas. Eriki and I bonded over giving Paka a bath, which she hated and still hates any water to this day. Her hair started to slowly grow back and she began to wander into my room more often, sitting in the middle and, again, never on the bed.

Some warm, wonderful weeks went by. We finished up our Pre-Service Training and received our assignments. I was to spend the next two years teaching at Itengule Secondary School in the Southern Highlands of Iringa. A two-day bus ride from Tanga, a trip I wasn’t keen on taking a cat with.

Cliché is the best word to describe what happened next. I was packing my grandmother’s suitcase, neatly folding the few clothes I had. When I turned to put some shirts in, I found Paka, sitting perfectly in the center of the suitcase.

Well, I had to take her. She chose me.

Paka would go on to cause a mini epidemic by giving everyone and their significant other from that trip ringworm. Her adventures have been plentiful; she became the center of attention at late night office hours for the students. She survived two black mambas in the house. She escaped at the largest business bus stand in Tanzania and was miraculously found. She has been by my side through the hardest trials of life so far. She is a representation of the continued love from Mama Joyce, her family, and a time that transformed me.

She has stolen the heart of everyone she’s met. This young seven-and-a-half-year-old cat thief does not deserve to die quite yet. I will do everything I can to keep her adventures going until it is, truly, her time.