Text about a love/hate relationship with cats by photographer/writer Dulce Escribano that was born in Spain recited by me in Spanish in Porto - Portugal

Dear friends this is a video made with biographical text by Spanish photographer Dulce Escribano because of the love/hate that she has because of her cats and also because of the love that I have for my kitty Ilvie that I've lost recently and my other kitties from the past Jacky, Maya, Nuala and Pimpolha to share the love that we all have for our kitties and pets. I recite her amazing text in this video, in it I also try to share a bit of my city - Porto with all of you. 

When I was reciting this text I was constantly thinking on my kittie Ilvie and a movie by Wong Kar Wai named "2046" and listening to Cocteau Twins song Lorelei from the album "Treasure" which I've used to illustrate this same video. Later I'll make another one showing the exhibition.

This video is spoken in spanish with english subtitles, in order for you to see the subtitles you must activate them on this youtube video settings. So you click in the bottom right at "CC" and you can select at "Settings" the english language.

Footage and editing by Duarte Aguiar.

Many thanks to all of your awesome support and your amazing words, feelings and art skills. 

Special thanks to Daniel Castro, owner of Boémia Caffé, and my Kitty Ilvie for being my muse and source of inspiration.

Original text in spanish

-No puedes tener alergia a los gatos, la tienes al polvo de interior. Madre dixit.

Mi primer minino, pensábamos que tenía bronquitis, porque nunca habíamos escuchado un ronroneo. Comía espárragos y adoraba que mi padre lo lanzase por el pasillo de nuestra casa infantil, que tenía 12 metros. 

Yo 

la odiaba y amaba a la vez.

Usurpaba el amor de mi madre. 

Madre me hacía los cuernos con un gato. 

La llamaba cariñosamente mi otra hijita. 

Así empieza mi historia. Y mi alergia. Amor/odio.

Acariciando a Androbia a escondidas, que para mi madre era Canelita. 

Pff, era ridículo.

Luego vinieron tres más, y yo seguía tomando medicación, y pinchándome vacunas para el polvo, pero mis ojos seguían picando, y mi nariz ardía por dentro.

Los seguía queriendo a escondidas, porque mi madre seguía engañándome con ellos.

Esta vez, ellos tenían los nombres de mis hermanos y el mío.

UN gato gigante, negro llamado Flavio, otra rara, color naranja llamada Dulce…y su pequeña y linda Rosa.

Dulce y su pelo naranja, en un ronroneo, se pegó a mi cara….y estuve a punto de perder el ojo derecho…..La alergia me inflamó tanto el ojo, que me salió una ampolla en el blanco. Me había echado las gotas de la nariz, en vez del colirio. La culpa, mía…por confundirme, pobre gatita...ñi ñi ñi ….

Mis padres se divorciaron….no sabía yo que podían durar tantos años. 

Ni mis padres casados, ni los gatos viviendo.

Salí de casa…y dejé de ser alérgica. 

Mi madre por un lado, yo por otro y también mis hermanos.

Ella, con los gatos, que son sus hijos, que han crecido….sus gatos. Sus hijos…su nuevo marido. También, amante de los gatos. Y mi hermana, y mi hermano, y mi tía y todos mis amigos tienen gatos….hasta mi compañero es de gatos…Me enamoré de un cuadro precioso, en la carrera…..eran gatos. Gatos y cuerdas, cuerdas y gatos.

Mi hermana dice, 

-No los odias, es mamá….porque tú eres un gato. Y yo, también. Soy Catwoman…..y se rie de mí, mientras me abraza fuerte y yo…salto y le bufo. Eres un gato, eres un gato….un gato panza arriba. Dice…muerta de risa.

-YO, soy un pájaro…un pez, un pájaro del mar….Nunca tendré un gato, nunca, nunca, nunca….déjame en paz.

Luego el Mauss…….

Amor/odio…gatos nazis….roedores judíos..

Tras la caída de las torres gemelas. Vivía en un ático. Había decidido estar sola un tiempo. Mi casera era una de mis mejores amigas de la infancia, cómo no, ojazos redondos, azul imposible…de gata…..como no.

No podía ser…de lejos escuché un maullido anémico. Casi ronco, a lo lejos….-

-Joder…no será un gato María.

María tiene los ojos de gato bueno, enormes, y en ese momento, me miró, cara de ….este pequeño ser rechazado por su madre te va a conquistar y te va a curar todos tus males y no lo vas a poder evitar.

Ahí estaba el gato, que me haría perdonar a todas las alergias, traumas, ojos y dolores.

En mi vida me levanté a las 6,30 a.m. para dar un biberón a un bicho. Refunfuñando…Canijo…que así le pusimos, porque estaba cojo y era una vaca de la India…tísica, pero sagrada, se convirtió en el sagrado santo gato de la expiración. MIII, miii, miiiaaa, mmmiii, grrrrrrrr. Biberón en mano, me abrazaba con el atisbo de unas mini garras, y yo….babeando.

Yo, alergia. Pero no importaba.

Luego de nuevo el Mauss…….amor/odio…premio a mejor novela gráfica.

Ahora, Canijo es Bola, una gata enorme, que parece una vaca de Asturias, y se trasladó a vivir a Sevilla, porque el anterior minino, se había tirado del sexto piso.

Síndrome del Paracaidista.

Ahora es una reina. Mala, pero reina. Ya no se acuerda de los biberones….y tengo que compartir cama con ella, cuando voy de visita.

Hoy, sale en mi foto un gato, territorial, como yo, escarpiado….

Le llamamos El rey de la Obra.

Cuidaba de una casa en construcción en Valencia…una obra abandonada. Nos hizo el tour fotográfico.

Concluyo …

Hace dos años, antes de una sesión de fotos.

-Te mueves como un gato, laxa como un gato, sin ruido llegas, asustas…dijo

-Pájaro…le contesté. FFFFFF. Pájaro. Y pez. Por eso no me oyes. Asentí.

-Pájaro pues, ya que yo soy el gato…..

y me miró con los ojos transparentes de amarillo verdoso, imposible de creer…y comenzó a disparar……

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………Fin.

P.D ,Al final, va a ser que las madres siempre tienen razón. 

Ella, tiene ocho, por cierto. 

Me sigue haciendo los cuernos con ellos……."

Texto e Imagen,  Dulce Escribano

Text in English

"Cats, my mother and me"

You can't be allergic to cats, it's all in your mind, my mother said.

We thought that our first kittie had bronquitis since we never listened to him. She ate vegetables and loved to be thrown to our childhood house hall that had 12 meters.

I loved her and hate her at the same time.

She stole the love that my mother had.

My mother was betraying me with a kitty.

She called it, my other daughter.

My story starts like this. And my allergic symptoms. Love/hate.

Caressing Androbia behind my back, that for my mother was named Canelita.

Pff. It was ridiculous.

later came three more, while I was having my medicine, because my eyes were itching and my nose was burning from the inside.

 I followed them secretely, because my mother was betraying me with them.

 This time, they had my brothers names and mine.

 A giant cat, a black one named Flávio, another with orange colours named Dulce... And her little and pretty Rosa.

 Dulce with his orange fur, while meowing throw her claws into my face... I was about to lose my right eye... The allergy made my eye grow so much that a needle was stuck in it. I was putting eye drops into my nose, instead of colirium. My fault... I was messed up, poor kitty.. 

 My mother and father divorced themselves... I didn't understood how they could be together so many years.

 Neither the marriage of my father and mother nor cats lives.

 I left my mother's house and stopped being allergic.

 My mother was in a house, I was in another, my brothers aswell.

She with her cats, that were her children, that were growing up... Her cats. Her children... Her new husband also a cat lover and my sister and my brother and my aunt and all my friends had cats as pets... Even my boyfriend loves cats... I was in love with a beautiful painting while crossing a street... It had cats. Cats and ropes. Ropes and cats.

My sister said: 

- You don't hate them, It's mother... Because you're a cat. I'm also a cat. I'm Catwoman... While she was laughing at myself while hugging me tight while I stood away from her... And hiss at her. You're a cat, you're a cat... A cat with its belly up. She said.. Laughing herself to death.

- I'm a bird.. A fish, a seabird... I'll never have a cat, never, never, never... Leave me alone.

Later appeared Art Spielgelman's Maus.

Love/hate.. Nazi cat.. Jewish rodents..

After the fall of the Twin towers. I was living in an attic. I decided being alone for a while. My landlady was one of my best childhood friends, She had big and blue eyes... Like a cat...

It couldn't be.. Far away, I've listened to a meow. Almost silent.

- Fuck.. It was a cat named Maria.

Maria had the eyes of a good cat, big and at that moment, She looked at me, like... I was thinking to myself that this rejected cat from her mother will conquer me and will heal all my wounds and I can't avoid it. 

The cat was there, he was going to forgive all my allergies, traumas and pain.

I woke up at 6:30 A.M. To feed a cat.. We called him Canijo, because he was sick and it was a sacred cow from Índia. Sick, but sacred, he turned into the holy cat... Me.. Meo.. Meow...grrr... Milkbottle at hand, he hugged me with his little paws and I was drooling myself.

I, allergy.. Didn't matter.

Later Maus again... Love/hate.. Award for best graphic novel.

Now, Canijo is fat, a huge cat that looks like an Astúrias cow and that came to live at Sevilla, because the first cat threw himself of the sixth floor.

It had parachute's syndrome.

Now, he's a king. Bad, but a king. Doesn't remember the milkbottle... And I have to share my bed with him, when I go there visiting Sevilla.

Today, a picture that I took was published... It was a cat...

We called him "El rey de la obra" 

We took care of a building house in València..an abandoned one. He gave us a photographic tour.

Finishing the story...

Two years ago, before a photo shooting.

- You move like a cat, you always arrive silently, scare people.. He said.

- BIRD.. I answered him. Fffff. BIRD and fish. That's why you don't listen to me.

- BIRD Yes, since I'm a cat...

And he looked at me with his peculiar eyes with a greenish colour, I couldn't believe it... And he started photo shooting...

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………The end.

It seems that in the end of any story, mothers are always right.

She has eight cats.

She continues betraying me with them.

Text and image, Dulce Escribano