March 15th, 2004

flesh

Between a rock and a hard place

Usually when a cat crosses the street it runs. Sometimes it'll double back on itself in a blind panic. This cat, however, crossed half-way then decided to stroll down the white lines in a terribly suicidal fashion. Our car approached from one direction and a truck loomed in from the other. The cat was confused. Didn't know what to do, which way to go.

By this point I was out of the car and scooping said cat out the path of the on-coming traffic. All well and good. But what do you do with the cat afterwards?

He wasn't blessed with a collar so there was no way of telling where he came from. He was smelly, skinny and rather shabby on the eye. He looked in need of a break. I guess that's where Fate stepped in.

He's currently sitting in our garage on a make-shift bed of velvet curtains. He's devoured three saucers of milk and a small amount of food and he's finally settling down to sleep.

Our friendly neighbourhood vet has just given him the once-over. It turns out that he's pretty damn old as cats go and unfortunately he's in a bad way; poor kid.

So, tonight he gets to sleep-over. Tomorrow... well, who knows.

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