Stanley’s blogworld

On a rainy Saturday evening I waited for my girlfriend outside the building where she works. I was waiting for her to finish work so we could go to 1912, a small a city block with bars and restaurants, where we were to meet my collegues from the school where I teach English.

While waiting outside the building entrance I heard what sounded like a kitten mewing, eminating from the shrubby garden area that adornes the front of the building place. I thought at first that it might‘ve been my vivid imagination playing tricks on me, so I walked over and leaned closer to in order to see if I could get a sight of the kitten, but to no avail. The mewing had stopped and it was to dark to spot anything among the dense knee high shrubs, terraced in three layers to about headhight. After standing still for and waiting for about another minute the mewing started again.

The fountain-area, next to the shrubs, formed a small pool from the steady rain all that afternoon and early evening, and I had to leap across very carefully in order not to slip on the tiled surface. On approaching the shrubs the mewing stopped again, which meant to me that the kitten could see me although I couldn’t see it. With my checkered-blue umbrella in one hand, to shield myself from the drizzle, I climbed onto the first step of the terrace and waited. I saw the branches of some shrubs coming alive with movement. The kitten was obviously scared and moved away from my approach.

Not long after my suspicions had been confirmed, the kitten started to mew again in full earnest. I moved my gaze in the direction where the cry (of distress) was coming from, and at first moved slowly on the very narrow path between the first and second layer of terraces. I was closing in on the sound of the kitten’s call, and then suddenly, for a brief moment, I saw only a bit of white amongst the shrubs as the small creature crawled away and hid itself again from my view.

Eventually my girlfriend, Carrie, arrived downstairs with some friends and I motioned to her so she could join me in “the hunt” for the kitten. We spent about half an hour moving to and thro, here and then there, around and also through the shrubs, but the whole time the kitten managed to evade us. In my imagination and frustration the shrubs had by now taken on the aspect of a small jungle and our little kitten was as elusive as a little tiger. Carrie had a small torch with her. This functioned as our “searchlight” and on one or two ocassions did I get a glimpse of the kitten in the beamed light.
Carrie had by this time also started to “mew” (after the kitten) and each time it would mew back as if to answer her call. We must’ve been a silly sight to all the many passers-by, but early on I had already decided not to care about that.

The search was called off and we agreed to try again later that night after we attended our party. We had to return for Carrie’s bicycle anyway.

Later that night, in a mild drizzle, after having had a few drinks and laughs we walked over to the “rainforest” where the “little tiger” was hiding. On our approach we could already hear the kitten crying in the rain, and I resolved to catch it and take it home.
This time I was a lot bolder, having seen that the gentle approach didn’t work, and I litterally threw myself into the shrubs after the kitten. In this way I “coaxed” it out onto the narrow pathway between the shrubs AND I CAUGHT THE LITTLE DEVIL AS IT TRIED TO SCAMPER AWAY.

Immediately the kitten tried to claw its way out of my grip, and after not succeeding with this it decided to bite my finger hard two or three times. I still bear the scars. I have nine little puncture marks on my left hand index finger and it’s a little bit sensitive to the touch. A right little devil kitten it was. Our first meeting wasn’t a friendly one at all.

By this time it had started to rain a bit harder and both the kitten, Carrie and I were pretty wet. Carrie ran inside the building to ask the security guardsd there for a box or something elseto put the kitten in. I waited for her across the road. I looked at the litlle brown, black and white felow trembling and complaining but secured in my grip.

In the meantime Carrie had hailed a taxi. She couldn’t get a box for the kitten so the three of us got into the back of the car and were driven back home in the onset downpour. All the way back home the kitten shivered and mewed constantly. From it’s racing heartbeat and shabby looks I could tell that it was very afraid and, I thought, pretty miserable too.

At home we arranged a sleeping place for the kitten in the laundry room. We tried to feed it some milk, but it was tough going. The whole night it hid itself in a corner, and hissed when we tried to pick it up. All things considered it was pretty lively, but it didn’t hold an ounce of trust in its little frame. Eventually we went to bed and I fell asleep only to be woken up again soon by a constant mewing.

On Sunday morning I got up early the and went out to by kitty litter, a syringe (plunger?) and a pair of gloves (to help prevent any more scratches, and potentially painful bites, to my hand).
So, I ended up feeding and treating the little thing with the proverbial (kid’s?) gloves.

Later that evening on our return from work I again attended to the kitten, gave it some milk and tried to calm it a bit. It was still scared, hissed and tried to find a hiding place while I tried to pick it up. It was a little wild cat, that it was for sure. When Carrie eventually got hold of it from its hiding place behind an opening inside the washing machine, it kept still and Carrie and I fed it some milk. It kept on pulling its head away, but at the same time it flicked its tongue eagerly at the fluid I spurted into its mouth.
By this time Carrie had taken a dislike in the kitten – it had scared her with its constant hissing, crying and aloofness.

On Monday morning we took the kitten to a pet clinic. We walked all the way there, and I carried the crying kitten in my arms.
Carrie and I didn’t talk much on the way. She had already decided it would be better if we got rid of the kitten. I still had high hopes for it, and wanted to see it grow big before we gave it away or “let it run away”.

Deep down inside I knew that the kitten was ill, I still expected the pet doctor to say that the kitten was O.K. and that it only needed an inoculation. Or something simple like that.
It turned out that the kitten was running a fever though, and its blood count was very low because of a serious lack of nutrition. It looked pretty serious. The pet doctor suggested that we have the cat drip fed.

I considered my options and then without flinching decided that we should have the little kitten put to sleep.
At the time I was very cool about my choice. In the end it was mostly a financial decision.
“Put it out of its misery and stop the suffering”, I said. “I’m not going to spend thousands on this stray kitten”, I said.
Carrie and I both agreed that we would forgo the idea of having a pet at our home again, or ever.

During all this time the kitten was acting a bit wild and tried to free itself from my arms, but then finally it must’ve sensed what was coming – it might even have seen Death itself – because after I told Carrie about my final decision it remained perfectly still and calm as if to say, “I will behave better now. There is nothing’s wrong with me”.

While the kitten laid there spread out on the table with a needle stuck in its little paw I couldn’t help but to feel very sorry for it. Its life had been a cruel one and it would be over soon.
I will now admit that I then regretted the choice I had made. Unfortunately my friend had to suffer as a concequence, and this I now regret.
What an awefull choice it is to make - the decision to take a life away.

In hindsight I should have taken it home and tried to doctor it back to good health again.
I would’ve prefered to have the kitten run about today. Even if it had to suffer a bit as a result of its illness.
Although it was afraid, slowly starving and sick with fever it still put up a good fight. It truly was a lillte wild and tenacious kitten. Until the end it tried to escape or hide itself away. It would tough it out on its own if it had its way.

Afterward I carried the dead kitten away in a box. Carrie and I walked along the road mostly in silence. I complained at the fact that the clinic wouldn’t get rid of the little kitten corpse.
We bought a garden shuffle in the marketplace close to our home, and took the dead kitten in the box to a park not far away next to the river.
In the park I put on my gloves and I dug a hole in the soft brown earth, in the shadow, under a big tree.
I tore of the tape that closed the brown cardboard box shut. I lifted out the dead kitten and felt its body light, soft and limp in the palms of my hands. I saw its lifeless eyes and placed it into the hole in the earth. It lay there half curled up as if it was napping.
I coverded the kitten with the dug up soil and filled in the hole until there was only a little mount
left covered in leaves in the shade under the tree.

I have been taught again how extremely precious life is and also how very fragile it is. For this reminder I have to thank my, now dead, little kitten friend without whom this experience would not have been possible.

May its spirit roam wild and free.

The end.