How a Kitten Stopped Me Running a Marathon

I was feeling good on Sunday afternoon, at least 30 kilometres of running good. I had planned a 27 km countryside route, with the option of extending it to a 42 km run if my legs were still feeling strong after a couple of hours.

Rainy season in Laos felt much cooler than the summer heat in Hanoi, and the first hour was smooth. 1 hour and 3 minutes for the first 10 km, which was followed by a half-marathon mark at 2:07.

Everything was going better than expected. I had beautiful countryside to run in, and every now and then, Joy would ride by on a scooter to say hello. Then the first hiccup hiccupped. Joy’s scooter was out of fuel. This was her first time out on a bike, and she sounded a bit stressed by the experience, so I ran 3 miles back to find her. 

I had expected to push her scooter along for part of my run, and I’d almost got back to where she had stopped when she came whizzing along. While I was running back, a local shop owner had sold her some fuel. Instead, I now needed some. I was out of water, as I had planned to restock at our homestay. Joy rode off to find me a Coke as I jogged back along the road. 

Children waved and laughed at me as I ran past them for the third time in an hour. And fuelled by a fresh helping of caffeinated sugar water, I was keen to keep running. I had no intention of stopping. I was off the pace after stopping to chat to Joy, but I was still moving well. 

Running down a long, empty stretch, between villages, I spotted a kitten next to a box. Joy pulled up, and we looked around. There was just one kitten and no people in the fields nearby. It was a skinny kitty with a loud voice and a lot of personality. They say curiosity killed the cat, but it was keeping this one alive. It was around 2 months old and unlikely to survive out here for long (Joy would later ride past a large snake, which I completely missed!).

We debated whether to leave the kitten where we found it or take it back to our hotel to see if we could find an animal shelter or home for it. Joy took the kitten and the box, and I tried to run on. After the two disruptions, and wanting to get the kitten warm and hopefully homed, I changed my mind and jumped on Joy’s bike at the 30 km mark. 

A marathon attempt aborted, but in pursuit of a good cause. We fed the kitten a little bit of chicken leftover from our lunch. And while the kitten was happy sitting on my shoulder, the owner of the homestay couldn’t give it a home, and didn’t know anyone who would want it. 

We hunted for a rescue centre and left a few messages on Facebook groups, but nobody came forward. A little warmer and a little fed, we took the kitten into town with us; it happily sat in a box, peering out of my backpack. As we walked along, the occasional dog appeared at our feet, which left the kitten attempting to make ferocious warning noises from the safety of my bag. We couldn’t believe that this kitten had been left, it was so friendly, curious and had such a funny little personality. 

We asked a local shop owner if they wanted a small kitten to go with their small child, but they didn’t. When we arrived at a restaurant, we put the kitten on the floor and let it do its own thing, half-hoping it would stay with us, and half-hoping someone else would take over. 

While we waited for our food, the kitten wandered away to explore. It approached another group of tourists, then followed some people down the road, stopping to see if it could sneak into a grocery store. We watched on, but it never looked back. 

Given it was too young to really hunt, and would have soon been a meal for a snake or village dog, we decided that the town would give it a better chance at finding a life. I really hope it finds someone. If anyone does, I can’t help but feel they’ll be the lucky ones. 

It was a smart and sociable kitten, and if we could have found a foster home for a month, while it could be microchipped and vaccinated, we’d have adopted it. But it seemed the only way we could keep the cat would be if one of us spent a month in Laos. Then we’d have had to get it to Hanoi, then work out what to do while we travelled in Japan. Even while I was working out solutions to every problem further down the line, we couldn’t solve the first; we couldn’t take the cat to China, and we didn’t have anyone to look after it. 

The timing and logistics were against the three of us. In another world, I’d be writing this with a new part of the family.  But instead, I’ll never know how the rest of that little kitten’s story will turn out. All I can say is that this was the best cat I never owned.