Try some; it's good.
Wherein I ramble about books, movies,
music, TV shows, my life, and occasionally, hot emo boys.
My Books
Current WiP
My ValentineGuide sequel = DONE
|
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
random tuesday
The mind is a strange and wonderful thing.
Right now I'm plagued by cats. I have two that I love very much, but Sunday night, I had a dream that we adopted a third one. A poor little stray turned up outside our door and I couldn't resist it, so we took it in. The tiny thing was terrified and immediately scuttled off to hide. We didn't trouble ourselves over it, we assumed it would come out for food and water when it felt safe.
Only in the dream, it never did so, and we all just ...forgot about it. This isn't something I would really do in real life. I don't think. Or is my subconscious trying to tell me that I'm utterly self-absorbed? That I'd allow something small and helpless to be harmed, not through intentional malice, but through neglect? This disturbs me. When we found the little kitten, a few days later, hiding in a drawer, it was terribly malnourished and dehydrated. I was panicked by this in the dream and frantic to get the animal to a vet. I woke up nearly hysterical and asked my husband where the baby kitten was. Our cats are around seven months old and are not tiny kittens anymore by any stretch. He gave me a strange look and then I realized we don't have a third kitten, and I haven't nearly killed some poor helpless animal with my indifference.
I was still feeling the effects of this all day yesterday. I can't say why, except the sensation haunted me. Yesterday was Children's Day (like Mother's Day or Father's Day) here in Mexico, so we took the kids out for dinner, and then we bought them new bedroom furniture. It's very smart, all sorts of staggered storage -- you know the kind, where the bed, desk, and wardrobe are all combined in one space-saving piece? Anyhow. We'd met at Mundo E because my husband didn't want to drive all the way home in the rain to collect us, so we took separate cars. He asked if I wanted to call a cab so we could ride in the same car going home, but I wasn't keen on hiking four blocks in the rain to the taxi stand.
That meant my daughter and I drove home by ourselves. Typically, the guys beat us because my husband drives like Mario Andretti. This time, we got there first, and as we pulled up alongside the house to open the gate by hand (my remote is broken), a cat ran past. It looked just like one of ours and I got worried that he'd escaped somehow. My daughter immediately panicked. Fighting the effects of the bizarre dream, I went inside to check. Our two cats were sitting in the window watching for us, so it wasn't one of them.
We bought them from a vet just two blocks down. There were three of them. One had already been purchased, so we bought the last two kittens. They are mixed, all the pretty coloring of Siamese cats without the overbred temperament. So it occurred to me the cat I saw might be their brother. Perhaps someone in the neighborhood adopted him and he got loose?
Last night it poured buckets. I heard that poor lost kitty crying, loud and plaintive. He sounded terrified. I went out into the rain at least five times, looking for him. The local policeman who guards our block finally asked what I was searching for. When I said I heard a cat crying, he asked if it was one of mine. I had to say no, and I'm pretty sure he thought I was crazy at that point. Gringa loca roaming around in a thunderstorm.
Such impotence is heartbreaking. Now, in the sunshine, I don't hear the cat crying anymore. I want to believe it's because he found his way home, but I'm afraid he may have been run over or worse. Isn't that the worst feeling in the world? Knowing someone (or something) needs you, but you can't do anything about it? Sometimes you can sense those pivotal moments where you should have acted and didn't, where you might have made a difference if you'd taken a different path. Now I'll always wonder if I should have chased that poor cat around the corner instead of making sure our two were safe inside. Would I have caught him? Would he have trusted me or would he have run? I thought nothing could be worse than listening to him cry during the storm, not being able to find him, but not hearing is bad too. Because I don't know what happened and I never will. Is that the worst thing of all? Not knowing?
Right now I'm plagued by cats. I have two that I love very much, but Sunday night, I had a dream that we adopted a third one. A poor little stray turned up outside our door and I couldn't resist it, so we took it in. The tiny thing was terrified and immediately scuttled off to hide. We didn't trouble ourselves over it, we assumed it would come out for food and water when it felt safe.
Only in the dream, it never did so, and we all just ...forgot about it. This isn't something I would really do in real life. I don't think. Or is my subconscious trying to tell me that I'm utterly self-absorbed? That I'd allow something small and helpless to be harmed, not through intentional malice, but through neglect? This disturbs me. When we found the little kitten, a few days later, hiding in a drawer, it was terribly malnourished and dehydrated. I was panicked by this in the dream and frantic to get the animal to a vet. I woke up nearly hysterical and asked my husband where the baby kitten was. Our cats are around seven months old and are not tiny kittens anymore by any stretch. He gave me a strange look and then I realized we don't have a third kitten, and I haven't nearly killed some poor helpless animal with my indifference.
I was still feeling the effects of this all day yesterday. I can't say why, except the sensation haunted me. Yesterday was Children's Day (like Mother's Day or Father's Day) here in Mexico, so we took the kids out for dinner, and then we bought them new bedroom furniture. It's very smart, all sorts of staggered storage -- you know the kind, where the bed, desk, and wardrobe are all combined in one space-saving piece? Anyhow. We'd met at Mundo E because my husband didn't want to drive all the way home in the rain to collect us, so we took separate cars. He asked if I wanted to call a cab so we could ride in the same car going home, but I wasn't keen on hiking four blocks in the rain to the taxi stand.
That meant my daughter and I drove home by ourselves. Typically, the guys beat us because my husband drives like Mario Andretti. This time, we got there first, and as we pulled up alongside the house to open the gate by hand (my remote is broken), a cat ran past. It looked just like one of ours and I got worried that he'd escaped somehow. My daughter immediately panicked. Fighting the effects of the bizarre dream, I went inside to check. Our two cats were sitting in the window watching for us, so it wasn't one of them.
We bought them from a vet just two blocks down. There were three of them. One had already been purchased, so we bought the last two kittens. They are mixed, all the pretty coloring of Siamese cats without the overbred temperament. So it occurred to me the cat I saw might be their brother. Perhaps someone in the neighborhood adopted him and he got loose?
Last night it poured buckets. I heard that poor lost kitty crying, loud and plaintive. He sounded terrified. I went out into the rain at least five times, looking for him. The local policeman who guards our block finally asked what I was searching for. When I said I heard a cat crying, he asked if it was one of mine. I had to say no, and I'm pretty sure he thought I was crazy at that point. Gringa loca roaming around in a thunderstorm.
Such impotence is heartbreaking. Now, in the sunshine, I don't hear the cat crying anymore. I want to believe it's because he found his way home, but I'm afraid he may have been run over or worse. Isn't that the worst feeling in the world? Knowing someone (or something) needs you, but you can't do anything about it? Sometimes you can sense those pivotal moments where you should have acted and didn't, where you might have made a difference if you'd taken a different path. Now I'll always wonder if I should have chased that poor cat around the corner instead of making sure our two were safe inside. Would I have caught him? Would he have trusted me or would he have run? I thought nothing could be worse than listening to him cry during the storm, not being able to find him, but not hearing is bad too. Because I don't know what happened and I never will. Is that the worst thing of all? Not knowing?
Labels: Random Tuesday
Try not to worry over it too much. I bet Mr. Kitty-beast is back home. And if he isn't you'll likely be seeing him in a day or two. Something about animals... if they sense someone around who'll take them in, they'll show up. We have two dogs - a border collie/lab mix and a pit bull. Somehow every stray cat in the neighborhood finds its way here. They even pile up in the laundry room with the pit. Who can figure it?
When we first moved in, she said, "You buy your cleaning supplies from me!" in lieu of "Hello, welcome to the neighborhood."
Some of my concern comes from having worked at a pet hospital, I suppose. Often I have more sympathy for animals than people. People can be absolute assclowns sometimes, but animals, when treated well, are such a source of unconditional love.