When I was 10 years old, I had convinced my parents that Poerk needed a friend.
Jonas came.
I have forgotten how we got him. He was young, but not a kitten anymore. It was no lap cat and I especially remember that I found him so light. His weight was nothing compared to my massive Poerk.
I was a bit disappointed with this cat, because he never wanted to be hugged and always jumped away, like a wet soap.
And he peed.
He peed if his life depended on it. He drenched the whole house in pee.
Apparently, my parents must have tolerated this for a while, because after we moved house again, my father (according to the latest fashion in home furnishings) glued dark brown corks boards on the walls.
Then after months, when the penetrating and somewhat acidic smell of the cork finally withdrew from the house ... the smell of cat pee gradually started to take over again. That cork had a fantastic absorbency.
Jonas had to leave.
An acquaintance of my parents lived alone on a houseboat and was willing to adopt Jonas. He did not mind cat pee, he said. A rather strange man who was called 'Big Erik', but sometimes such acquaintances are quite convenient, isn't it?
A few years later, when I started to bring my pocket money to the pubs of Alkmaar, I discovered that Big Erik was the bouncer at the local discotheque. That felt safe, because I was only 15. I counted on that he would guard me. Because after all, I had given him a free, virtually unused cat!