Oh, poor baby! Even though he was supposedly famished, he was finicky. Didn't like dry cat food. Didn't like canned cat food. (I should have known!) But he just LOVED those chicken drumsticks I baked for him. Yes, I BAKED for him, and then I continued to labor by separating the meat from the bones and the skin and so on. Cat-sized portions remain in the freezer.
But come to find out, this is an opportunistic animal, a neighborhood cat, who has now disappeared to more favored digs. Turns out he has at least three homes that welcome him, and all within shouting distance, plus the home where he "belongs," which is apparently not acceptable. I'm not sure why, but I hear they have an unfriendly dog. They're missing out. This is a sweet cat that enters your home and claims the territory. He drapes over furniture, rubs along legs, and stands by the door in a mannerly fashion when he needs to exit to do his business.
Why did we take him in? One, we like cats. and two, we stared directly into his pleading eyes and believed he needed our help. I think most people are like that. If you can see a being —person, or animal, that is clearly in jeopardy, and you are in a solitary position to help, then you will. It's not like the shared responsibility we have for beggars with "will work for food" signs whose eyes you avoid, and who are ignored by most people in passing cars, and whose plight you figure somebody else will address. And whose motives you may question.
But when it's just you and a suffering (supposedly) being, and you are the only person who can alleviate the situation, what do you do? Most people open the door or the wallet. I know I do.
All those mailed appeals with photos of children with cleft palates and hideous living conditions and polio and so on, not to mention the puppy mills and chained starving animals, attempt to duplicate the impact of beings who are suffering right before our eyes. Local newspapers at Christmas time highlight pathetic story after pathetic story of "friends in need" and the community responds with an outpouring of cash and goods and trips to Disneyland. But nothing quite rivals the domestic animal who shows up on your doorstep on a frigid night looking for a way in. Unless it could be a child fleeing abuse or neglect. Can you imagine a terrified child trembling at your door? Could you turn her away? I couldn't. But I'm afraid I ignore some of the most plaintive appeals from the most worthy non profits because I just can't take it all on. But give me a cat on a cold night? You're in, baby.
