A desert dream in tropical Bangkok
The latest arrival to the soi looks just like the wild sand cat
IN THE late evening, everything is quiet. I settle back to enjoy the silence, when Wan-Wan, my poodle pup, begins whining.
Wan is our self-appointed cat guardian, and her special whine tells me cats are fighting outside.
I don’t hear anything, but Wan, who, being a dog, has hearing much more acute than mine, gives me that Look, as in “Help the poor cats! Now!”
It’s true that soi cat Thep hasn’t yet come in for his evening meal. The pretty orange cat isn’t much of a fighter. Could some other feline, a stranger to the soi, have cornered him somewhere?
With Wan whining in the patio, I open the gate and look outside. Yes indeed, Thep has been cornered by a tom I’ve never seen before.
But I have seen this cat before – in books and on the internet. I’d swear I was looking at a sand cat.
Sand cats have no business in Thailand, let alone Bangkok. They’re wild cats found in northern Africa and central Asia. The smallest of the wild-cat species, they weigh no more than two or three kilos.
Although sand cats are wild animals, I find sites on the internet advertising them for sale, a particularly cruel and (to me) disgusting form of business, especially since the cat is highly endangered.
The animal has adapted to a dry, arid climate. It even has fur between its toes, to protect its feet from the heat of desert sands. Anyone cruel enough to keep one needs to adapt its living quarters to reduce humidity and raise temperatures. Nevertheless, animal rescuers observe that the animals don’t survive very long in captivity.
I suppose it’s understandable that people would want to own one. The cat’s very broad cheek bones and flattish head give it an especially sweet expression.
And that’s exactly what I’m looking at, a sand cat nose-to-nose with poor Thep.
I look more closely at Mr Sandy. He certainly has that sweet expression and the wide cheek bones. If he is indeed a wild animal, though, he doesn’t show any fear of me. In fact, when he sees me, he mews as in: “Hello!”
You do have to be careful not to jump conclusions, don’t you? One afternoon a few weeks ago, a woman who lives near my soi called to me as I was walking Wan past her house.
“Are you interested in buying a pit bull?” she asked me. “I have a male and a female puppy. I’ll sell each for Bt2,000.”
I wasn’t interested in buying a dog. Besides, Wan herself wouldn’t be interested in another dog coming to live in our home.
The woman seemed to think she had a potential customer, though. She ran inside her house and brought out one of the puppies, perhaps around three months old.
I’m no dog expert, but I knew immediately that although the pup was pretty, it wasn’t a pit bull, not even close. You could easily tell by how narrow the pup’s skull was, unlike a pit bull’s much broader one. This pup looked like a soi dog you see almost anywhere.
Well. I hope the two kids found good homes.
Back on my soi, as soon as Thep sees that my gate is open, he runs into the patio. Mr Sandy watches him disappear, then slowly strolls down the soi.
Mr Sandy seems to have moved permanently to the soi. He has an owner, who has put a collar around his neck.
He’s a young boy, and in a few weeks, his body matures. The wide cheek bones narrow, forming an elegant skull. No, he’s not a sand cat. He’s a beautiful Thai cat.
Yet for one brief, shining moment, our soi was home to an exotic creature – a passing dream that thankfully hasn’t come true.
