 |
|||||||||||||
 |
|
 |
|||||||||||
 |
 |
||||||||||||
so earlier this semester my house adopted a cat that had been wandering around one of the sororities. all of us are fond of cats and had discussed possibly getting one at the beginning of the year; i voiced my stance that, while i love cats, i've promised myself that i cannot get one until i know i won't be moving to another residence for at least a year. but when chris brought elfie home i certainly didn't object. 'winter break is far away,' we all thought. 'we'll think of something by then.' anna had thought that some friends of her parents might be interested in adopting elfie during winter break, when none of us could take her home - two of us because we live very far out of state, others because they already have cats or their parents aren't interested. these people have since rescinded their interest, and now winter break is much closer, and i'm realizing more and more how fond i've gotten of having a cat around even though she fucks up our door frames with her claws, attacks our legs a lot, and loves to bite. (which i can't entirely blame her for - biting is awesome.) she's an extremely sweet cat and i don't want her to have to go to a shelter, but so far we haven't been able to find people who want to take her... which is more or less the thing that i feared most would happen. she doesn't know at all that she's not going to stay with us forever, and i hate the thought of putting her through such a rough time after the easy life she's had here. it feels like we tricked her, you know? which reminds me of a fable i heard recently: there was a homeless man who had to walk everywhere although he had no shoes. as a result of this, the soles of his feet became very tough and callused. one day someone gave him a pair of walking shoes - very good quality. the homeless man was very happy and wore them everywhere until they fell apart. by this time the calluses on his feet had vanished because he had been wearing shoes all the time; when he had to return to walking barefoot again, he cut himself on his soft tender foot and died. the problem with helping someone - anyone - is that if you don't help them all the way you might do more harm than good. but at the same time, how can we be indifferent and choose to NOT help when we are, for at least a little while, able to? i've always been ripped up on the ethics of that, of being uncertain of which action, in the long term, does the most good, or at least the least harm. and it's not a theoretical question now by any means. this has been weighing more on my mind than i had thought - kitty keeps popping up in my dreams. last night in my head she had kittens. anyone who has spent quality time with a specific animal knows that they are not generic. that each one has its specific little quirks and annoyances and sweetness that cannot be generalized. we set ourselves up for such attachment/heartbreak with them. at least i do. it's a practice in love and in grief. in a bit of a dark mood tonight. it is very foggy out, foggy enough to barely see 10-12 feet in front of you, and cold, like everything has been wrapped up to keep it from smashing against anything else. i wish i wish i wish Post a comment in response: |
| © 2002-2008. Blurty Journal. All rights reserved. |