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6/28/2004
Life is unfair
I wasn't sure I'd write about this, but something depressing happened over the weekend that has put me into a reflective funk. Stacey and I drove up to Stephenville on Friday, and a few miles from her mom's place, we saw an orange furball in the middle of the road. We turned back to see what it was, and it was a kitten, quite alive but inexplicably planted on the center line of a country road. Stacey jumped out and grabbed it, waving wildly at an oncoming tractor-trailer, which had just rounded a bend and was quickly bearing down on us.
The kitten seemed fine, though a bit skinny and agitated after a ride in the car. It kept lunging for Stacey's face, and inflicted a couple of shallow scratches on Stacey's hands. We got it to her mom's place, fed it some milk and cat food, which it quickly ate. It then attached itself to Stacey, fixing her with bright blue eyes and meowing insistently for attention. Stacey named it Franc(e/i)s. Naming probably wasn't the best idea.
When we checked on it Sunday morning, it barely moved, and cried when we picked it up. Stacey wrapped it in a towel and tried to soothe it, but it just lay there, breathing shallowly and indifferent to food or affection. We left that afternoon, and by the time we got home, it had died. I was much more grateful than usual to see my own cats, the nagging bastards.
The kitten seemed fine, though a bit skinny and agitated after a ride in the car. It kept lunging for Stacey's face, and inflicted a couple of shallow scratches on Stacey's hands. We got it to her mom's place, fed it some milk and cat food, which it quickly ate. It then attached itself to Stacey, fixing her with bright blue eyes and meowing insistently for attention. Stacey named it Franc(e/i)s. Naming probably wasn't the best idea.
When we checked on it Sunday morning, it barely moved, and cried when we picked it up. Stacey wrapped it in a towel and tried to soothe it, but it just lay there, breathing shallowly and indifferent to food or affection. We left that afternoon, and by the time we got home, it had died. I was much more grateful than usual to see my own cats, the nagging bastards.
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by Chris @ 7:06 AM
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