Monday, August 01, 2005

meet the woman

i am a cat. if you doubt, go look at my picture. i am starting this blog because i am increasingly disgruntled with my family and need to rant. read on at your own risk. it is not my intention to turn humankind against itself but if i do, well, you bloody deserve it.

since this blog is about the family, i will begin on the day i meet the woman. life as a stray is a bitch, especially for a cat like me that has had a good number of years in domestic bliss. i used to be cute but now people run from me ever since the street diet (when i get it) has given me a bad festering itch.

as with previous evenings, i wander towards the void deck where uncle leaves food out. its not bad when there's any left but wouldn't you know, cat with 1 tooth and no street skills is pretty low on the food chain so i wait for the others to finish.

woman gets off the cab and starts cooing like a nut. as the others scatter at her enthusiasm, i stuck to her leg meowing my sacharrine sweetest as she stoops and pets my head. she stops when she sees my bald scabby patches and runs. figures.

as i settle back into my wait, woman comes back with a beaten up brown box and puts me in it. it stank of rabbit, curses! what the hell does she think she is doing? i struggle, i yelp, i scream and i tear the box at the top, side and bottom. but she holds it together with all available parts of the body, while asking people at the bus stop to help flag a cab. not much luck there. a man grunted 'no' and slided away as i put a paw with hooked claws through the box and it stayed there because her hands were full with my nose jamming through the top and my hind leg breaking through the bottom. the box was a shambles, she was a wreck, people stayed away.

finally a man on a crutch hailed her a cab and helped put us in it. 'SPCA', she said. the cab driver sped us there while i yelped up a storm in the box.

at SPCA, the night staff picked me up by the skin behind the neck. excuse me peoples, i am no fresh itsy pussy so its gotta hurt! the woman tells the staff that i am in a bad condition (to put it mildly) and is there anything SPCA can do for me? when it is clear the woman is going to leave me there, he asked the woman to sign a condition of surrender 'on the understanding that it is left to the SPCA's discretion whether the animal/s will be selected for adoption or humanely destroyed'. she started to ask a lot of questions pertaining to 'humanely destroyed' and so she should. 'So how does SPCA decide whether the animal will be selected for adoption or destroyed?' The staff could not say. 'It is the vet's decision.' 'Can I call to check after the vet has seen it before i fully commit the animal?' 'No, signing the form means we have full discretion with regards to the animal.' ' Is there a vet nearby I can consult?' 'Yes, but at this hour, the charges are $250.' '....'

yo, i love the SPCA because it is the only real organisation doing anything about sad sods like me. problem is, there is just way too many of us out there getting lost, abandoned, abused. i would want distance too to stop from breaking down in a blinding defeating rage.

short of taking a filthy cat home with any amount of unknown creepies on it, the woman was out of options. she signed and left and i was brought to a room and placed in a cage alongside other animals. some of them are much worse off than a couple of scabs so i hope my chances aren't all that bad.

blogger templates | Make Money Online