By
Lisabet Sarai
The
earnest little kitten above is Katie*. Like all of the felines with
whom I’ve shared my adult life, Katie is a rescue cat. We adopted
her at the age of three months from our vet. According to the story
we were told told, someone brought her in to the animal hospital when
she was only a few weeks old. Apparently she’d had been in an
accident and had broken her front leg. The wound had become so
seriously infected that they had to amputate part of her paw to save
her life. Indeed, if you look closely at the photo above, you’ll
see that she’s missing the toes on her left front foot. X-rays of her
shoulder show a permanent partial dislocation.
Katie’s
now a strapping two and a half year old, curious and lively. She has
a limp when she walks, but this disappears when she’s chasing our
other rescue cat, Simon*. He’s a mostly-black beauty with golden
eyes and a kinked tail, who loves to curl up in bed with me, purr in
my ear and lick my chin. When Katie was an only cat, she used to nip
our toes and gnaw on our fingers. Now she chews on Simon’s ears and
chomps on his neck. He doesn’t seem to mind at all. Meanwhile,
we’re grateful that she’s found an alternative target for her
oral aggression!
Simon
lived in a cage for the first ten months of his life. Given that
social deprivation, it’s astonishing that he developed such an
affectionate, easy-going personality.
Our
neighborhood abounds with stray cats. Kind-hearted locals feed them,
so of course they stick around, mate and reproduce. There’s one
female, in particular, who has given birth to at least six litters (that
we know about). We’ve tried to catch her in order to have her
neutered, but she’s more or less feral and won’t let us come
close.
So
there are always kittens around, and we’re constantly tempted to
adopt a couple more. But realistically, we couldn’t handle this. We
live in an apartment, just the two of us. If there were a fire, we’d
have to grab the felines, stuff them in cages, then carry them down
six flights of stairs. Given our age and physical condition, two
cages is our limit. In addition, we do quite a bit of traveling. Our
part-time housekeeper cares for the kitties while we’re away, but I
think she sees even two cats as a weighty responsibility.
Our
friend on the fourth floor, on the other hand, has taken in at least
five of these neighborhood kittens, as well as rescuing cats from the
highway and from the roof of a nearby shop. We’ve lost count of how
many felines he and his family have, because they keep some at his
office, some at the restaurant they run, and some in their apartment.
Another
friend, a woman I work with, has zero ability to resist strays. At
present she’s caring for eight formerly homeless cats. The social
interactions among these creatures is extremely complex, so she has
to keep them in different rooms in her house, feed them at different
times, and so on. Her life more or less revolves around the cats’
needs.
When
I look at these two friends, I feel pretty guilty. Are my husband and
I really doing all we can to save these furry beings from hard and
dangerous lives on the street? Don’t we have the money – and the
love – to spend on a few more?
What
is enough, though? No matter how many homeless cats we adopted, there
would always be an unending supply. It seems more reasonable to
acknowledge our limits, and to do what we can to stem the tide. So we
support the animal shelter and its spay/neuter programs. We share
information about animals who need homes. Of course we neuter our own
pets.
Worrying
about stray animals gets me thinking about homeless people. We have
an extra bedroom. Most of the time, except when we have out-of-town
guests, it’s empty. Should we offer it to someone who needs a roof
over his or her head? Isn’t it selfish of us to squander this
resource? Is it our responsibility to rescue our fellow human beings?
It’s
easy to feel overwhelmed by all the pain, tragedy and sorrow in the
world. There are no easy answers. I do what I can. I edit altruistic
erotica anthologies for Coming Together. I run my monthly Charity Sunday events. I rescue a few kitties and resolve to give them the
great life that they deserve.
*
Names have been changed to protect the cats’, and my, anonymity.
Lisabet,
ReplyDeleteSounds to me like you're already doing more than your share. Don't become a "cat lady," in your zeal to do good. I believe that you have to accept the limits of what you can practically do to help others, kitties included. Sometimes, you just have to close your eyes and ignore what you cannot fix.
For us, the homeless are our feral kitties.
What do you do for the homeless, Larry? How do you help?
DeleteGreat post, Lisabet. The homeless problem is out of control here, and it has even got to the point where the city is considering passing a law that doesn't allow houses to remain empty for long periods of time. We have so many that are like that (it's a tourist destination, so people buy them, but hardly use them.) I feel for the animals too, but am relieved that we have a no-kill shelter that I can donate to.
ReplyDeleteEveryone should be entitled to a roof over their head, a safe place to sleep. It makes my stomach hurt to see how the US, richest country in the world, can't house its population. San Francisco is probably the worst case. There are literally no apartments there, of any size, less than $3000/month.
DeleteAll of California is absolutely ridiculous, which is why I moved from there 10 years ago. I pay the same amount here on the Oregon Coast for a two bedroom apartment that I paid for a studio apartment in 1999 in Los Angeles. It's no wonder people are in the streets.
DeleteLisabet, I agree that you’re doing as much as you can. Unfortunately, I think the best thing any of us can do for the homeless is to get political and lobby the organizations that are supposed to keep them from falling through the cracks.
ReplyDeleteI agree. It's like the "teach a man to fish" saying. We need to get at the heart of the problem, which is not a question of resources but of political priorities.
Delete