Last time I was in Montreal was when I was 13. It was a business trip for my father and we all tagged along. I don’t remember it that well except for one very vivid memory. My parents bought me a really cool outfit that was mustard yellow and charcoal grey. It was a sophisticated ensemble that would betray any New Hampshire Mall purchase and make me stand out in 6th grade.
Montreal is a dead ringer for Europe and we are visiting at a time when due to dollar/euro conversion rates more people are looking for European alternatives. The two are so similar that even though flight time from NY to Montreal is a whopping two hours with no time change I still feel tired. I have phantom jet lag triggered by European architecture and the smell of cigarette smoke.
Being a more international city the sport of choice here is Cricket. Well, that is of course after Ice Hockey. We head to a playing field on the outskirts of the city to join a league already in play. My attention is completely distracted by a homeless kitten that has wandered out of the bushes and has begun to play with whomever will give her attention. The players are concerned with the little kitten getting walloped by the ball and chase her away others show no sympathy and just want her to go. It’s a totally heartbreaking scene. Christina, my stylists, is bound and determined to get the little girl a home. My feelings are torn — where’s the mother? Will mom cat miss her baby when she doesn’t come back? But working at an animal shelter I know that kittens and puppies get adopted and then those animals are fixed and that helps stop the cycle of homeless animals. Christina has convinced a lovely cricket player whose girlfriend has a little girl (what better way to win her over than with a kitten?) So our work is done. As we were leaving we see another little kitten come out of the bushes. Ugh.