Harkness – MacGillivray Stories

I met Valentina when I was travelling to St. Petersburg, Russia, with Natasha, who would later become my wife. It was just around Christmas-time – New Year, at the end of the last century. It was a remarkable trip because it had been a combination of two things I love — travel and pets.

Natasha and I in St. Petersburg

“Where are we staying again?” I asked. I had put away my sleeping mask, as I had finally given up trying to nap during the Aeroflot flight. 

Natasha laughed, “Again, we’ll find out later when we reach St. Petersburg. We’ll have options as soon as we reach the airport.”

“They said it’s safe, right?”

“Yeah, that’s how people do it there. A bit nervous?” 

“I mean, yeah. I’m both nervous and curious. It’s our first flight together and to St. Petersburg! But we don’t have any itinerary at all!” 

When we reached St. Petersburg, a group of people were already waiting by the exit, holding out photos of their apartments. Several passengers headed straight towards them, carefully looking at the photos. Natasha walked towards an old woman holding a photo of her apartment. 

Valentina

“My place is perfect for a couple like you – lots of space and a lovely neighbourhood. It’s near the tourist spots, but far enough away from the centre so as not to be too noisy and crowded.” 

The old woman introduced herself as Valentina. She dressed a little shabbily wearing two pairs of thick woollen leggings one on top of the other. I surmised that this was probably necessary in the cold and bitter Russian winter. The photo showed an old tenement building with the old woman standing outside the building holding two cats. One of the cats immediately reminded me of my childhood pet Poppy. After a brief exchange of knowing looks between Natasha and me, a deal was closed.

Valentina then led us back to her apartment. It was only a two-roomed apartment. Once inside the apartment we were able to unpack our things. I was given the privilege of staying in the only real bedroom. Natasha was going to sleep on the sofa in the ‘doorless’ living room with the cats. They would eventually be Natasha’s alarm, waking her up every morning by patting on her head back and forth. Valentina was to sleep on a bunk bed in the kitchen where she would be constantly boiling fish. It was probably the breakfast of boiled fish and vodka that had kept her very active until a ripe old age!

We planned to visit the Hermitage, the largest art museum in the world. It seems peculiar that Russia, a country which possesses such wealth and riches, is also one whose majority of people are so poor. This is also peculiar taking into consideration that Russia is a so-called communist country, where the idea is that everyone receives equal shares. But I suppose although all Russians are equal, some are still more equal than others!¹¹⁰ 

Valentina and her vodka-drinking cats

Excited to explore the city, we got everything straightened out immediately. We took a little rest on the sofa sipping tea and planned to venture out in to the cold soon. Valentina was sitting in the other corner of the room with her two cats. She seemed to be spoon-feeding them with something. I got up out of the sofa and walked over to observe what was going on. 

Valentina was holding one of the cats by the scruff of its neck and somehow managing at the same time to force its jaw open. The cat was letting out a hissing and spluttering sound but was defenceless against Valentina’s strong grip. There was a bottle of vodka, uncorked, on the table, so I immediately assumed she must be force-feeding the cat with vodka. I wanted to ask her why she was carrying out this strange procedure; but she spoke no English, so I had to ask Natasha to act as my interpreter.

I went back to where Natasha was sitting on the sofa, and asked her, “What’s going on?” I whispered. 

“Beats me,” she said. 

“Come on, ask her what she’s doing,” I urged her.  

After a few more urgings, she relented. Natasha walked over to the other side of the room where Valentina was still feeding her cats with vodka. She turned on her charms and asked in Russian what she was doing. 

Valentina was friendly and all smiles and just plainly answered that she was giving her cats vodka. 

Natasha managed to find her voice and asked “What? Why?” 

“Oh, it’s advice from our cat doctor,” she answered matter-of-factly, still holding one cat by the scruff of its neck while forcing spoonfuls of vodka down its throat. The other cat sat there intently watching the vodka-drinking ritual.

This was the funniest joke I’d heard in a long time! But I could hardly start laughing out loud. “On the advice of the cat doctor!?” 

A Peculiar Matchmaker

The cat and vodka session started to make more sense to me the next morning because Valentina offered us boiled cod and vodka for breakfast! At heart, I’m just a ‘weakly’ Englishman brought up on cornflakes and sugary tea, so this Russian diet was too much for me. I did manage to nibble the fish and sip at the vodka. 

After breakfast, Natasha complained of a sore neck and headache so Valentina offered to massage her neck. After massaging Natasha’s neck for a while Valentina said that this was really the husband’s job she was doing. We pointed out that we were just friends, and not married. 

“Oh! but you make such a nice couple!” exclaimed Valentina.

At the time, there was quite a difference in our ages but I looked younger than my years. 

So on Valentina’s advice, I took over the ‘neck-massaging’; so in one sense, it was Valentina that brought us together. But this is another story!  

After watching Valentina giving the second of her cats the last spoon of vodka, we finally excused ourselves and headed out for dinner and sightseeing.

You can say that the image of that scenario got stuck in our heads even as the night rolled on. It was so bizarre that just at the mere thought of it, either of us would burst out laughing. Well, if you had to be force-fed something, Vodka wouldn’t be the worst right?

You can read the complete stories here starting with the previous post:

Travel and Pets in Russia | Laughter and Nostalgia | Poppy, the Medieval Princess | Laddie, a Man’s Best Friend | Dogs in the Afterlife

¹¹⁰ Orwell, George. Animal Farm.