It's been awhile since I've been able to spend time with you and I've missed it. I hope everyone is well, and that everything is hunky-dorrie as the old song used to say. Today has been a beautiful, sunny day with a nice cool breeze that kept me comfortable as I did some gardening. I may not have shared with you that it has been close to two years since I was blessed with such joy. I planted purple day lilies, white and purple Oriental poppies and a single Beverly Sills iris which is a coral pink. The rest of my iris order didn't make it and it was probably a good thing because I was weary after this little bit of digging and planting. Now I look forward to seeing how my purple and pink like each other come Spring. I've not shared with many my long-time knowledge that I have purple DNA. It's the only way to understand my passion for purple, don't you think so too? Awww well. You're welcome if you just think me strange. All of us need a tiny little bit of strange, I think, and I chose purple. There really isn't a lot that is happening here...well that depends on how you feel about wild cats...oh, sorry, not a 'wild cat' but one that was abandoned and half starved when he showed up eyeing my two cats as they ate from their bowls. I cannot tell you how polite he was all hunkered down in a position of subservience to the resident cats, waiting so politely for a bite or two (if they would be so kind as to share). This vignette went on for several days, and I, the good mother of all who hunger was calmly talking to him and assuring him everything was okay, as neither Molly nor Bella would even think of harming him because as he could see they were each very well mannered. We even progressed to the point that I was allowed to rub his ears and coo sweet nothings into them in the process.
Then came 'the day.' Everything was normal. Molly and Bella had left their positions over their bowls and Bella, who is affectionate came to me for her 'loving'. The visiting cat looked up from downing her bit of the supper, leaped in one strategic bound and was left hanging from my right forearm by means of one very nasty looking tooth. I was horrified and screamed at him as if he were a child, "no" I shouted. "We don't act that way around here." Said cat had backed away and was calmly eyeing me from a distance that was not nearly far enough away.
About that time I noticed that my arm was dripping something that was sticky and red...blood! I rushed inside to get the first aid box. I was quite sure he wasn't rabid because he was perfectly calm, just sitting there looking at me as if he were asking "What's all the fuss about?"
The next night as I was putting the cat food out there he was waiting, and he jumped me again. I came away with blood oozing from eight places in my right hand and we still gave him the benefit of the doubt and waited until morning to get in the car and drive the forty-five minutes to the hospital. After antibiotics, a tetanus shot, and a splint to hold my poor, swollen hand and arm, we drug ourselves back home to discover the cat was now dead, shot as if he were a mountain lion.
Believe it or not, I was sorry about that even though I still have scabs and a swollen thumb that aches. Man, it aches.
I'm really not sure if there is a moral to this tale. You would probably say don't take in stray cats, and I'm sure that's correct. But on the other hand how can you turn away from an animal that is in need of help.