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10.25.2001 || 23h48 To-morrow, there'll be a 'Missing Cat' poster up somewhere near my flat. Coming home from drinks with Sister and the Origamist, I was walking down the hill to my door when I came across two women croutched over one of the neighbourhood cats. It had been fairly done in by a car: broken spine and two severed legs hanging by mere strips of flesh. Below a dangling eye, its shattered jaw worked frantically as it wheezed and struggled to get free from the women. With its spine snapped, the cat curled like an ouroboros eating its own tail. I threw my phone at one of the women and rocketted to my flat to get my boys' blanket from behind the bathroom mirror. I'm sure they won't mind. They only ever get to see it when it's vet time anyway. I ran back and tried to help the other girl wrap the cat, but it put up such a fight that its severed limbs flapped about like madness. Finally a taxi was called and we got the cat wrapped up and took it to my stairs; I ran in again to get a box in which to put it. Just as I got the box to the bottom of the stairs, one of the ends burst. Thankfully, Best Friend came out to see what was up. He went and got some tape for the broken box. The first girl took the cat to be put down at the 24-hour vet out on the Trans-Canada, her pockets full of whatever money Best Friend and I had on us. Then Best Friend, S___ (the girl I'd helped wrap the cat), and I came in to calm down over hot tisane and coffee. Afterwards, nausea kicks in. Nerves shake apart, and you realise what you just saw. Even small deaths are still deaths. Even small ones. |
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shite One last little note... - 09.21.2006 de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006 Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006 More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006 Scary stuff - 05.25.2006
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