Pishy

Story Behind Pishy (Feral Cats Artwork)

These artworks are inspired by Pishy, a feral cat who has become a regular visitor to our yard. As I write this text in the early morning, she just walked into our yard and looked at me, perhaps wondering why I’m writing about her and not going out to fill up her bowl of food. I know she's hungry. “Pishy" is the Persian word for "Kitty Cat," which is why we call her that. Pishy interestingly has different names at different homes she visits, as one of our neighbors mentioned they know her under a different name.  A feral cat with multiple identities reminds me of international spies.

In one of the paintings, I tried to portray her exactly as she is, with her cut ear. For the second painting, which I actually cut out, I aimed for a more generic representation of black cats. That's another point: black cats, at least in North America, often seem to be the ones found feral and uncared for outside.

Our mysterious Pishy roams the neighborhood, often crossing the streets into other yards, but she comes to us every single day. Since she always seems hungry, we feed her on a regular basis.  I have set up a little cat sofa and a warm igloo for her to keep her warm in cold weather and protect her from rain.

Pishy's nature is fascinating to me. She is incredibly apprehensive, never allowing anyone to get close. The only time she truly warms up to us is when she's eating the food we leave for her. That's the sole window of opportunity to touch her.

Her free spirit and wild nature have left a profound mark on me, as I see some of my past in her lifestyle. Being a nonconformist, living on the wild side, and not going by the rules if they don’t make sense has its own unique merits. Yet, at the same time, we pursue such a path at our own peril. This duality, the risk and reward dynamic, is fascinating to me. When we choose to live life on our own terms, we must be prepared for the consequences of such a path. Pishy embodies this quality.

Due to her precarious outdoor lifestyle, we sometimes see her bruised or injured. Maybe she gets caught in tight spaces, trying to free herself, injuring herself as a result, or if she's been in a fight with other animals for survival. What I do know is that ever since we first met her, about six or seven years ago, she has had one ear cut off.

On several occasions, I considered bringing Pishy inside and making her an indoor cat, as I recognize the inherent risk of her outdoor life but also the joy and fulfillment she seems to get from it. Bringing her inside would undoubtedly provide a safer, more predictable existence, but I fear it would come at the cost of her happiness and her very nature. The question of whether I have the right to make that choice for her—to prioritize her physical safety over her autonomy and freedom—is at the heart of this dilemma.

The movie Papillon provides an excellent cinematic parallel to this philosophical question and this internal struggle we face in life sometimes. The two main characters, Papillon and Louis Dega, represent opposing philosophies on how to live.

• Dega's choice to accept a life of comfort and security within the confines of the prison colony reflects a willingness to trade ultimate freedom for a measure of safety and peace. He finds contentment in a predictable, albeit limited, existence.

• Papillon's choice, in contrast, embodies a fierce, unwavering commitment to freedom. His rebellious nature and relentless pursuit of escape, despite the immense risks, dangers, and repeated failures, speak to a profound belief that a life without freedom is no life at all. For him, the struggle itself is a form of living, and the possibility of escape, however remote, is worth any sacrifice.

Ultimately, this is a question we all face in our own lives: Do we seek a life of security and comfort, or do we prioritize authenticity and freedom, even if it means confronting struggle and risk?

My contemplation of Pishy's life is a microcosm of this universal human dilemma. It forces me to ask myself: What is the true measure of a good life—longevity and safety, or the freedom to be myself and pursue what I love, regardless of the consequences? 

Pishy’s wild nature presents another interesting and challenging problem. We have a bird feeder elevated about two meters off the ground, and once, I saw her hiding nearby, waiting for the birds to get close, as once did, she jumped up and captured a bird. I don't know if she kills the birds to eat them or if she just kills them with her claws and fangs as she plays. I’m not comfortable with this situation either way.

We love both the birds and Pishy, and I can't stand the thought of one being sacrificed for the other's enjoyment. When I first saw her hunting birds from the feeder, I tried to address the issue by talking to her about it. I presented a solid case for peaceful coexistence, but she didn't listen—she didn't give a damn. Since I wasn't able to get through to her, I created a barricade around the bird feeder so she can no longer hide and grab the birds.

Pishy may not be thrilled by missing out on fresh food, but the birds are safe.