Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Fur, and whiskers.

Tonight, I am feeling a bit sad.   

I wasn't sad earlier.  I was quite happy, indeed.  When I drove Joey to work, he asked if we were going to 'hang out' tomorrow.    "Hang out, with me?!" I replied.    "Yes, hang out with you!" he said.    I said, your day off, I figured you would want to hang out with your girlfriend.   I guess I am still your 'girl' afterall?  He replied, yep, you'll always be in my life, forever! 

I teared up, after he got out of the car (of course).   He's such an amazing young man, and I am so lucky he is my son.

So, on to why I am sad.   Later, after I dropped Joey off at his girlfriend's house, I was driving home, not paying attention to much, when I noticed something laying in the road, as I turned the corner to get to my house.  I went around the block again, and came up the other side, and as I drove up, I realized that a cat had been hit by a car, and been killed.   He was a feral cat - one of the chunky fellows that roams loose in the neighborhood.  Fluffy, white, and orange.   He was laying close to the center turning lane, and as I decided to go home, and get an old towel to pick him up, and wrap him up in something - a truck drove down the road, striking him again.    Unfortunately, picking him up was not going to be possible after that.  

I thought about my cats at home.    We have four.  Three of them, could easily have been feral.   There is Optimus, whose mother is a feral, who has since been trapped, spayed, and released.   I've written about him on my blog before.   Then, we have Bella, and Cissy - yes, named after the sisters in Harry Potter.   Their mother is also a feral, who was trapped, spayed, and released.   She had them, and then was trapped two months later.  We caught the kittens the day the momma was brought back, and have kept them ever since.   We also have Peaches - we adopted her from our vet.  

They sit at the windows, watching the two momma cats outside.  They lounge on the rug with the dogs, and sleep on my pillow, above my head.  Every. Single. Night.   When I wake up in the morning, they all know exactly where my first stop will be, and beat me to the bathroom door.   Sometimes, standing on their little legs patting the door with their paws.    Then, it's a race to the kitchen, to see who will get the first nibble of kitty kibble. 

I can't imagine letting them out to roam the streets, and I can't imagine why so many people out there DO let their cats out.   It is the most irresponsible thing ever.  If I could, I would bring the two ferals in the house to live.   I have tried, oh yes I have.   I've put the other cats in the bedroom, and stood with the door open, inviting them in.   They stand there, looking at me like I've lost my mind.   

They must ask each other, "is this lady crazy?  she wants US to go inside there?   inconceivable!!"   If they would come in, my worries every day would be aleviated.   I watch out the window, and ask my family - have you seen Optimus' momma?   Have you seen Bella and Cissy's momma?     Then, when they return, hours, and hours later, I am so relieved, I run out with treats for them - a little tuna, some chicken...something.    They have survived four snowy, icy, winters here with our care, and I know their days are numbered due to their feral lifestyle.     

I am reminded of that fact, once again tonight, seeing that poor cat in the street.   Sad, so very sad. 

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