Crying for Strangers

I had the opportunity to chat last night with my good, and oft-mentioned, comrade-in-antics, Heather. I told her that I would dedicate my next blog post to our well established and hilariously well-documented friendship. Alas, friend, it will have to wait.

Today has been a strangely emotional day for me. I struggled to wake up this morning, disoriented by the buzzer of my alarm (I switched I from vibrate to ensure I would get up). My yoga practice was frustrating, and the weather is hot, muggy and overcast. I wasn't getting good vibes. Then, half a block from my house, a guy stops me in the street. I generally bristle against being approached by strange men, but I've been trying my best to be a more pleasant person lately, so I stopped, removed my headphones and sun glasses, and listened to him.

He didn't live on the block, and so was looking to find the owner of a cat. A cat he had just discovered lying in the gutter. He asked me if I recognized it, if it was from around here. And she was. She was the most charming little thing, wandering up and down the street, meowing and rubbing herself up against you if you caught her when she wasn't napping in flower beds. The other day, she followed me down the block after my run, and sat underneath me as I stretched. And there she was, looking like she was napping, dead in the gutter.

My heart broke.

Another neighbour came by, equally appalled, who knew where she lived. So the man who stopped me rang the bell to break the bad news to the owner. He didn't care. It seemed like he already knew, and had perhaps placed her in the gutter himself. I had thought she had tags - I remember thinking that I should check what her name was - but it looked like he had removed them. I was so furious. Four different people had stopped in the street, having recognized this little cat and wanting to do something for her, and her owner didn't appear to even care.

I fought back sobs my entire walk to campus. I wanted to call my mom and ask how She Ra was, but I knew I would start bawling. I can't believe how much love I could feel for an animal I hardly knew, a stranger. And I am heartbroken that her owner did not share that.

please don't get eaten by coyotes baby girl!

I have so much respect for the stranger who tried to find this cat's owner - "they're probably waiting for her to come home. She shouldn't just stay in the ditch - they may want to cremate her." - and his efforts almost give me faith that there are genuinely good, altruistic people. And then I think there are people who should not be allowed to have pets. I don't know what I would do if someone knocked on my door and told me She Ra was dead. It would break me.


What a tremendously hard way to start the day. I really miss my baby girl.