Saturday, July 26, 2014

Shop Cat

There's a new girl on the block, who visits me nearly every night and often in the mornings. I've named her Cordelia after the sympathetic daughter in Shakespeare's tragedy of King Lear who was disinherited and cast out by her father. She's a dark little tabby with some calico coloration who appeared in the neighborhood a week ago and whom I discovered to be the shop cat for the Land Cruiser™ dealership and service center across the street in front of my loading dock. She's a very charming little thing, and while she tends to interrupt my sleep at times when she comes over to visit she's more than welcome company. I'm guessing she's about a year old, and it wouldn't be at all surprised that she's one of those cats who got abandoned after her owners realized she's not a cute little kitten anymore, and would cost money to take care of and who may not put up with as much of their child's crap as she did when small and helpless — this happens more often than you may think. She's a very affectionate little critter: she loves to sleep on my chest, oftentimes kneading it as though she were making biscuits. (I've even made a silly song up to sing to her when she does this, titled “But Where's the Gravy?”) And, she's a climber, too! She leaped on my shoulder one night when she felt I was insolently paying my cigarette more attention than I was to her.

I can't say I'm too happy about her living outside, even if she is being taken care of to at least some extent by the guys across the street. I don't think she's been spayed yet, even, though as a female she at least won't go tear-assing around the neighborhood picking fights with other toms; it used to break my heart visiting my little Moon Goddess' mom's house in Happy Valley — a popular dumping ground for unwanted cats — and watching Coby saunter up with a face torn open and covered in scabs from scratches and bites because he was fighting all the time because he hadn't been neutered! She doesn't look as though she's being ignored or is underfed, but does she have a safe place to sleep at or at least hide out in? Not more than a couple days before she arrived I watched a coyote trot down the street at 3:30 in the morning, and they're cat killers. There's also the matter of daytime vehicle traffic down the street separating her home from mine, which makes me so nervous for her that I make sure to leave my spot around 7:00 AM and to not return until at least 7:00 PM; cats are horribly stupid when it comes to dodging cars, and I'd be completely destroyed if I were to see her get run over by a delivery truck as she was trotting over to come wish me good morning!

What's with people treating pets like disposable commodities? It's goddamned despicable, is what it is, and indicates to me a crippled empathic nature and an appalling disconnect with reality. I can understand throwing away an old cell phone or junking an old car, but we're talking about living creatures with feelings and the capacity for pain and suffering here ... who are chosen to be companions, not as manufacture of crafted lifestyle accessories! All throughout my life I've been incensed at people who refuse to sift and change their cats' litter boxes, dog owners who keep their dogs out in the yard all day and act inconvenienced when the dog clamors for attention whenever they're sunning themselves or sipping their drinks on the porch; or street kids who jerk on their dogs' leashes and yell at them while walking down the street, and give them cheap garbage food given them for free while drinking beer that the dog panhandled for them. Don't even get me started on the assholes that fight dogs or the evil little shits who think it's fun to microwave gerbils and cats! I would have little qualms with killing such people; anyone so cruel as that is sure to be a wretched golem of a human being the world would be much better off without.

2 comments:

  1. Your comments regarding how an alarming number of people view pets as nothing more than so much trash were spot on. We still have a revolving door of kitty cast-offs out here, alas. And it's been a while since I've thought of Coby. Makes me rather teary. :-(

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    1. I really wish I'd have snatched him up in my t-shirt and we'd have whisked him off to the vet to get neutered, so that at least his last days may have been less bloody and painful. I miss him, too.

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