Today as I sipped my morning coffee I looked out the window and saw a cat on the curb across the street – it was not moving, it was unresponsive despite traffic, rain, and dogs on leashes passing by. It was dead.
From my point of view I had to know if it was The Cat – the one lovingly cared for by the Friends of the Cat (F.O.C.), our unofficial neighborhood group in charge of his well-being. I would need to verify his identity by seeing the distinctive white markings about his face and paws. If it was not The Cat, then it must be the remains of our other beloved neighborhood tuxedo-wearing cat, Max. He has been ‘officially adopted’ by our neighbor DiDi, although many other neighbors at this end of the street share him ‘unofficially’.
With heavy heart I called the county’s Help Line and reported that a dead cat had to be removed. I was able to make the call anonymously and provided the location details. Before sending a sad message to DiDi, I put on my coat and went out to take a photo of his final resting place and to verify that it was indeed Max, by looking for the distinctive markings on his chest.
I crossed the street and got closer for the photo, all the while with my stomach clenched in a knot. I got closer. It was, after all, a sweater left on the sidewalk.
More of the good life for The Cat! More of the good life for Max!
