First, Tim. He took Sosa to the emergency vet on Friday. The vet said it was probably some sort of poisoning; his liver was completely shut down, and he was too far gone to save. It breaks my heart to think of it--they were such sweet cats, and they were only the same age as Whitey--just about five years old.
Then there's my neighbors.
Now, I love Len and Phoebe, my neighbors. They're very nice people, they don't plague me, and they watch out for my house while I'm at work. But they seem to share the same view as most of the rest of the neighborhood when it comes to animals, particularly cats: they're nice, but disposable. A couple of years ago they had the cutest kitten; they let it out and it got away and was never seen again. The day after I got Snickers, LJ's friend brought one of his littermates over--my neighbors were having a problem with mice. He was around for a week or so before he got out; he came back later, but escaped again and hasn't been seen since. Phoebe seems to think someone took him into the house and is keeping him there.
Yesterday, when I was leaving for work, their oldest son was coming in from a night out. "We got a kitten," he said. "One of my guys cats had kittens...he's three weeks old." It wasn't til I got in the car that I thought three weeks? that's awfully young....
Last night, I was eating my dinner (and guarding it from Snick, who's getting to be quite an accomplished thief) when the doorbell rang, accompanied by a piercing "MEEEWW!" I opened the door to find Len and Phoebe's younger son standing on my porch, with a tiny ball of all-white fluff attached to his shirt and screeching in fear. "My momma says do you want another cat?" he said. Apparently the little one, along with the constant sonic assault, had taken an inappropriate crap in one of the bedrooms. I went out on the porch and held the kitten (who was quivering like a leaf) and attempted to explain to Phoebe and the older son: the kitten is too young. He should be with his mother for a couple more weeks at least. To which the son replied "My guy's mom said she was gonna put them out in the alley if he didn't get rid of them today." My reply was "Don't TELL me that!!" I told them the kitten was probably not even litter-trained yet; I told them to put him in the box and move his front paws for him, teaching him the way the mother-cat would have.
"He cries too much," they said. "He's terrified!" I told them. I suggested putting him in a carrier with a towel, a little litterbox, food and water, and playing a radio very very low to keep him company. Then I noticed: The kitty was all-white--not a mark on him. I snapped my fingers right behind him--no reaction. I tried a couple of other sounds--nothing. I told them the reason he wasn't responding to "no!", along with his youth, may be that he couldn't hear them--some white cats can't hear, I said, and he might be one of them. Meanwhile, I'm holding this poor little trembling kitty and thinking of Len and Phoebe's track-record with cats. I would have kept him, but one baby in the house is quite enough--and LJ would kill me stone dead, if he came home to find a THIRD cat. Enough is enough, you know?
I came home today and Phoebe was on the porch. "How's the kitten?" I asked. "We gave him away to the people across the street," she said. These are the same people whose older cat has spent much of the spring and summer up in the high branches of the big tree across the street. They say they TRY to keep him inside, but he gets out and heads straight for the treetops. I'm thinking this poor baby-cat hasn't got a prayer.
I know I've got the typical prosperous-white-liberal view of animals; I know it's hard to worry about the welfare of kittens when you're not sure how you're going to pay the bills that month. But still--it makes me sad. Very, very sad.
To offset the very very sadness of this post, I give you: the prince of the Catastrophe, who is getting REALLY big. Ain't he cute?? (The look of fixed intensity on his face is directed at my laundry basket, into which he is contemplating an ill-considered leap.)
LJ comes home tonight, so poor Snick is going to get exiled from the bed. Is it wrong that I'd rather sleep next to the cat?
Poor kitten...I wonder why people don't just take the animals to the animal shelter, if they don't want them (i.e. the litter of kittens that was going in the alley).
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