How We Accidentally Adopted a Ukrainian Refugee Cat Through Reddit
The heartwarming and furry journey of Jimmy the Cat
Let us cast our minds back to early 2022. In fact, back to February 24, 2022. This is the day Russia invaded Ukraine, and things in Europe changed overnight.
Living in Germany, we are close to Ukraine—too close for comfort. This also meant that many refugees started coming into the country, many by car, and many more by train. Suddenly, there were more people than the city had accommodation for, and they had to resort to a school for temporary housing.
We could not believe how beautiful this cat was! This was his first night.
The local government requested people with any space in their homes to offer shelter to refugees fleeing from the horrific bombings being inflicted on their country.
And you know what? People stepped up. Hugely. I know people personally who didn’t even think twice before offering space in their homes. Friends even gave a family of four a home for over a year and then helped them find their own accommodation, got the kids into local schools, and more. People can be amazing, and sometimes we only see the best in people in the worst of times.
I desperately wanted to help. Somehow. My husband had started a job where he got tips and decided to donate all his tips to the war effort—and amazingly enough, during this time (about three months), he used to get huge tips, more than previously and more than he gets now.
We were already cramped in our little two-bedroom house as a family of four, so there was no way we would be able to put up any refugees. Well, not human ones, anyway.
A few weeks earlier, we had agreed to let the kids have a kitten and got permission from our landlord. They are lovely people with pets of their own, and a cat is not a huge deal anyway.
Then along came insomnia and Reddit. Anyone familiar with the platform understands how time slips away when you are deep into posts, comments on posts, and comments on comments. I had recently joined the local city group in English and was scrolling at 3 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep (that’s another issue—call it age-related insomnia mixed with insane anxiety and possibly too much caffeine followed by too much alcohol).
So here I am, scrolling away when I came across a post from someone that went something like this (I’m paraphrasing):
“Hi, I am a student and Ukrainian refugee and have temporary accommodation, but the owner is allergic to cats, so I need someone to look after my cat for 1-2 weeks while I find somewhere more permanent to live.”
What could I do? This was perfect! We could test having a cat, see how the kids behaved, and also really help someone out in the process. So I added my comment to the 20+ others who also offered their place. I wrote that we have two kids, a small garden, have had cats before, and of course would love to help, even if it’s longer than two weeks, no problem.
Then I happily drifted off to sleep, not thinking any more about the cat.
The next morning, I had a message on Reddit.
“Hi, I would love to take you up on the offer to take my cat. Can I bring him around tonight?”
Shit!
The first thing I had to do was talk to my husband.
“I may have accidentally said we can house a cat for a couple of weeks.”
My lack of consultation didn’t go down too well, but as someone who grew up with parents who bred Burmese cats and was therefore surrounded by kittens on an annual basis, he didn’t really mind. But still, I should have asked him. Yes, yes, I know, but I didn’t think he’d actually choose us!
So we switched to WhatsApp because I don’t understand the Reddit messaging system. Call me old, I don’t care.
It turns out he was a student originally from Morocco and he had this tomcat who had travelled with him on the train. He turned up with the cat in a carrier, some food, a litter tray and litter, and a friend for moral support. We exchanged a few words. When I asked what the cat was called, he said “Jimmy.” Ha, brilliant! Then we opened the box and my goodness, inside was the most beautiful cat I had ever seen. I was expecting some mangy old flea-ridden moggie, but instead here was what looked like a pedigree blue-grey shorthair cat.
And Jimmy was not happy. He’d had a few traumatic weeks, which is probably an understatement. His ‘dad’ was going to come back at the weekend to visit him, and I said please come anytime, he’ll need you.
So off he trotted, and Jimmy stayed in his box. I’ve had cats before; you need to let them explore and sniff their way around their new home, so we tried to persuade the kids to leave him to it—he’ll come around eventually.
That weekend, his dad didn’t come back as he had his COVID vaccine and was poorly. Then a week later, he had so much paperwork to deal with he couldn’t find the time to visit. No problem, I said, but please come anytime.
Weeks passed. I would send him photos and updates. Jimmy was getting friendlier; he loved the garden once we let him out. He had been an indoor cat, so this was all new to him. He was still jumpy, but the change was quite beautiful to see.
More weeks passed, more exchanges. I didn’t question him and how we still had his cat. I just reassured him that it’s okay, we can keep him for as long as he needs us to. He’d been through a traumatic experience. German bureaucracy is famous for being horrendous, so the last thing he needed was me hassling him. Anyway, Jimmy was cute, he was beautiful, and he was getting friendlier. But he still slept in his box.
Then he decided to start fighting all the neighborhood cats. He had grown bold and brave and had an almighty fight with The Ginger Cat that we’d seen around. Jimmy lost that fight. He was beaten up and scratched, in a pretty bad way. I wrote to his dad, apologizing profusely that I hadn’t looked after him properly. He said it was fine; he’ll recover. Okay, phew! But he’s so beautiful! He’ll be scarred and mangy by the time you get him back if this continues.
More months went on, his dad went quiet, the messages were no longer delivered. Shit, he’s changed phones and disappeared! Then about three weeks later, he messaged me, apologizing profusely again, saying his phone had broken and he had to get a new one. Plus, not being an EU citizen, he had to leave the country, so he had gone to the Netherlands. He now had a Dutch phone number.
Oh.
Right.
Does that mean you’re not coming back to get Jimmy?, I thought. I didn’t voice my concerns to him. Again, I didn’t want him to worry about his cat, reassured him, and kept sending photos and updates. Yes, he’s still fighting. No, he’s not coming back so battered. Last night he seemed victorious and didn’t have a scratch on him, yet there was a huge pile of ginger fur in our garden!
We bought Jimmy a little scratching post, nice bowls, and started brushing him a lot. He wasn’t so sure about the kids, but he liked to be close to me and my husband. He would lie close to us, not touching, but close enough that we could stroke him—to an extent. Stroke too much and he attacks. Know your boundaries, cat parents!
One neighbour joked that he was our Ukrainian Fighting Cat, defending his territory, after yet another big fight with The Ginger Cat. Yes, we replied. He is also very volatile, like anyone who has lived through a war.
Let’s fast forward to today. About a year ago, his dad eventually wrote to us asking if we would officially adopt him. He wasn’t in the position to take him back anytime soon. He was living in refugee accommodation, although he did get a job pretty soon after moving to the Netherlands and managed to finish his degree.
I was thrilled, the kids were thrilled, my husband was over the moon! For someone who wasn’t happy about getting a random cat without consultation, he could not believe how we had ended up with such an awesome little cat. Jimmy likes to follow me around like a little doggy, he’s become so chatty, high maintenance, and very demanding for food at all hours. He likes to howl in the middle of the night to go out, then likes to howl again to come in. We don’t have a cat flap, not possible with only glass doors in a rented house. But he stays out all night if he’s not back in time when we go to bed, and then we just hear about it in the morning … “Miaow, miaow, miaow, how dare you lock me out?”
I’m still in touch with his dad. We message every few months and I send him updates. He’s doing well and is happy that his Jimmy is a happy little cat.
As for Jimmy, I have never seen a happier cat. He loves to sit in the garden and just sniff the air. He loves playing with us and lies in wait, ready to pounce on my ankles when I’m not looking and attacks with all his might. I have permanent scratches like I used to when we had kittens when I was younger.
He learned to be a kitten again. I don’t know if he ever learned to play, because initially he didn’t know what to do with any of the little toys we bought him. I feel like he regressed and became this happy little kitten in a cat body.
He also likes to sleep in the most pathetic way I have ever seen in a cat. He obviously feels very safe with us, as all you see when he sleeps is his cute fluffy belly, legs sticking out in all direction. Stroke his belly at your peril!
He’s brought us a few mice as presents—lucky us! Two with missing heads (yum, crunchy mouse head!) and one live one that was let loose in the house. (Good news, the mouse got out of the house and the cat got locked in for the rest of the night.)
Jimmy also likes to collect ticks. He goes wandering near the train tracks that are overgrown and comes back with blood-sucking little friends; it’s revolting. But we do our best to get them off when he lets us.
I feel like he’s my third child. He’s six years old now, the same age as my youngest, so we celebrate their birthdays together.
What did I learn from this whole episode? Definitely offer help when you can. Follow your gut when you think it’s the right thing to do, because you never know—you might end up with the most awesome cat!
