Ana, my Brazilian friend, has spent decades putting her heart where her convictions are. She feeds feral cats on the grounds at Rio de Janeiro’s Jockey Club and takes home others in need. People leave cats at her doorstep. As of this counting, she has 35 in her small apartment. Imagine the horrific results of this crowding, yet Ana forges on.
She marches with animal advocates, all five feet of her tiny frame, and writes letters to the legislature. She was ferocious when the mayor of Rio ordered the rounding up of feral animals to be killed. This took place in preparation for the Olympics. In her opinion, the man wasn’t qualified to be alive himself. His priorities actually did seem skewed. He did nothing about the sewage in the beach waters. That the Olympics went off without a hitch and did so with no credit to him was sheer luck.
Ana and I worked together at the American School of Rio de Janeiro. After I left to return to California she began her war on cat killers. She is quite a dame, is Ana.