An Open Letter of Thanks

I name all the cats on the streets where I live - I have since living in Kingston during my undergrad. Here, we have LaFonda and The Black Cat (TBC) and lovely, lonely little Marx. He got his name cause he has a funny black patch on his head that looks like a Groucho Marx wig and a little black spot on his nose - a moustache. Anyway, I've never been fond of Marx's people - Yes, I do judge people by how they treat animals - I also judge people who are irrationally scared of animals and really, if you 'don't like' animals, we're likely not friends. Nor do I likely have a high opinion of you. Back on track - Marx pretty much lived outside. He's just a young cat but lately I noticed that he just sat, rather sadly, on the steps outside his people's house - through sun and rain, wind and, well, more wind. The other day I went past on the other side of the road and he cried out at seeing me - so I walked over to give him a pat. He was skin and bone; his skin was yellow and he was weak. The door opened and some tarted up, bleach-blond, trakkie bottom wearing bint stands there staring. 'Is this your cat?' I ask. 'Yeh. But ee's been sick inside so I threw him out.' 'Oh...um...' - door shuts. Ever the cool one in these situations, I go back home and have a cry. Nas has better plans. He goes down to our neighbourhood friend who lives across from The Assholes. She's been feeding Marx for awhile and had thought he'd been looking worse but wasn't sure. Confirmed in her view by our reports, she acts.

So this is a letter to thank her. She called PDSA and got Marx an appointment; when the first vet said he had liver failure and would have to be put down, she got a second opinion. She had him tested for FIV and feline leukemia and has him at home, grateful for a little warmth and a diet of chicken and fish to get him back up to scratch. He was always a friendly little thing.

See the world needs more people who act - something I've got to do. And I'm also going to focus on her actions because focusing on The Assholes and what they suggest about the whole democratic system makes me see red. But I learned through her about PDSA so next time I'll know what to do.

Apparently The Assholes came over to her house to see 'if they were angry' - our friend and her partner had actually asked them if they could take Marx away. They had 'never really liked cats' and said their little boy used to just pull Marx's tail and hit him. They had apparently never stopped him from doing this. The lesson they had chosen to teach their children, apparently, was that responsibility can be given up - I've raged about this before - and I said I wasn't going to get angry anymore. They are not worth my time or my energy. They are less than nothing. They aren't my peers or my neighbours - I am, in fact, better than them in every possible way. Perhaps, when they get tired of their children (screaming fat brats from what I can see), they'll also end up outside.

But let me end and calm myself by remembering that, at least in this case, all it takes is someone with sense and compassion. Marx is safely in a home, purring on a radiator, enjoying chicken and fish. Thank you neighbour!