We finally reached the stage where I met Mozart back in 2018. We started the day late, on purpose. The plan made the night before was to just take it easy, stroll like we’re in a park. In the town where we’d slept, I took the crew for an energy boost – coffee and Coca-Cola. The sun was already up and not holding back. As we were sipping our coffee, I was a bit worried, knowing we had a tough day ahead with relentless climbs in the heat.
But this stage holds a special place in my heart because it’s where I met a little creature (read: cat) I named Mozart. A beautiful little thing, looking somewhere between a lynx and Mozart himself with that funny wig he wore on his head that suited him. A few years from now, I might figure out whether it was a lynx or just a regular cat – or maybe I never will.
Anyway, we found Mozart in 2018 in the middle of hell on the Camino. No living soul in sight, not even run-down farms around. The area screamed: “What is water?” In the middle of nowhere, this kitten appeared, head hung low, wandering aimlessly. All of us hikers were dying on this path, which for me was probably the most boring part of the Camino. Christ. “Sir, do you still have that black gun?” The cat followed us the whole day and ended up at the hostel with us that night. What now? After a long think, I set myself a challenge: to find it a home. Finisterre, where a hippie family lives, seemed like the ideal place for the little thing. I spent one day with Mozart. Fast walker, stubborn, and of course, playful. He walked over 20 kilometres. On his own. Following me.
Since I knew we’d have to walk along the main road at some point, I wore him out on side paths first so I could carry him when needed along highways. But this kitten had endless energy, just like me. We argued. A lot. He just wanted to keep walking, doing his own thing like any young soul trying to assert itself. That day, we both taught each other something. Who had it worse? Probably me, since I was a sunflower-aged 37.
By pure accident, I found him a home on our first day together – one with a gorgeous garden, a pool, amazing energy, three cats, and two dogs.
Originally, the plan was to take him with me to Finisterre, where the hippie family lived. But after sleeping on that idea, I realized I didn’t want some guy who doesn’t give a fuck about responsibility raising this creature. Mozart deserved a good life with good people. Sure, he could’ve been my Camino hero, but our mission was to find him a proper home, and we did. On day one. Obviously – I’d already taught him everything: disobedience, that he’s a valuable addition to this world and should act like it, and that he better not disappoint me. Who wouldn’t want to adopt a cat like that?
Honestly, if you ask me, I turned him into the next Bear Grylls. He’ll be fine. After all, he survived a whole day with me.
So much for Mozart.
Oh, right. Mozart is actually she. But because of the look – Mozart it is. My only wish when I had to say goodbye was that they keep the name.
Let it be Mozart.
The kind of elegance Mozart showed on our first public poop-stop? Worth an ovation. Look, again – LET IT BE MOZART. And let it be known I was her personal trainer.
Tomorrow, I’ll be sleeping at the place where I found my Mozart a home. I hope he is still alive and playful.
