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David McElroy

making sense of a dysfunctional culture

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Cat’s ordeal reminds me that bad things happen right under my nose

By David McElroy · August 10, 2012

Bessie isn’t dead, but I think she came pretty close to dying in the last few days — right under my nose. Actually, right under my bed.

The sad and confused cat you see on the right isn’t some stray I just found. She’s one of my own cats. Here’s what she normally looks like. Thursday evening, she looked nothing like the beautiful young cat she is. She seemed like a dehydrated and emaciated little girl who was dying.

As many of you know, I’m a sucker for homeless animals, so I have a houseful of “fur people.” (I have another purring cat in my lap as I write this.) So there are enough of them running around as though they own the place — which they do — that I sometimes don’t pay attention if I haven’t noticed one of them for a couple of days.

Bessie was one of a couple of sisters who I took in about four years ago. Neither ended up being adoptable, so I kept them. (Here’s Bessie’s story from last year, and here’s the story of her sister, Molly.) They were feral, and they still have a lot of fear in them. They rarely even let me touch them, which is why it didn’t seem odd when I didn’t see Bessie for a couple of days.

I had realized vaguely that I hadn’t seen her for days, but I didn’t worry about it. By Wednesday night, I was concerned enough to at least search for her. When I saw her looking back at me from under the bed, though, I wasn’t concerned. I figured she was just hiding again.

By Thursday evening, I realized that she was still under the bed — in exactly the same spot. When I reached to try to touch her, she sliced me with her claws and threatened me with her teeth. She didn’t want to be messed with. I was about to leave her alone when I noticed something. One of her feet was extending up to the bottom of the box springs. Even when the rest of her moved, that foot — paw, if you prefer — stayed where it was.

If you’ve had cats, you might know how much they love to tear and play with the sheet of useless fabric that comes on the bottom of most box springs. (Every cat I’ve ever had seems to love doing it.) That fabric is made is some type of really strong fibers that I can’t identify. That’s what it looks like on the right after years of having cats rip at it. I never look down there, so I had no idea it was that bad.

Somehow, Bessie had gotten one of her paws wrapped in some of the torn strands of that fabric — and she had been stuck there with one paw trapped above her, apparently for days.

I have no idea why she didn’t cry out or make some noise. But she laid there with no food or water, probably since about Saturday (since that’s the last time I remember seeing her).

I had to take most of the bed apart to get to her, because any attempt to pick up the box springs just pulled her paw tighter. And until I actually got her out, I didn’t know if she was caught on something sharp, so I thought I might be ripping her paw if I pulled it too much. She continued to fight me like a cornered animal who expected to die, but I finally got her out.

She was weak and emaciated. When I took her to a water bowl, she collapsed next to it and drank and drank and drank. She ate a little bit of food and then she drank more water. Then she curled up into a ball and collapsed in exhaustion. I watched her all night and it seems as though she’s going to be OK.

She’s always a tiny cat — roughly 6 pounds — but she’s down to just 4.5 pounds right now. The time without food and water was tough on the little girl.

It occurred to me afterwards that it’s not always big things that we have to worry about. Sometimes, it’s the little things — right under our noses — that become big things after it’s too late for us to do anything about them.

For the past few nights, I slept just a couple of feet from a little feline who was progressively getting closer to death. It would have been just a little thing to check on her days ago, but I didn’t.

It makes me wonder what other little things are happening right under my nose — or under my bed — that I’m ignoring until it’s too late. I’m glad I was able to rescue Bessie in time, but I appreciate the object lesson that left me wondering all night what other little things in my life I need to pay more attention to.

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On a live awards show Sunday night, one man made a joke about a female celebrity. The husband of the celebrity was offended and hit the man who made the joke. Or maybe it was staged for entertainment. Who knows? Who cares? Social media is full of discussion — and even arguments — about this idiocy today. This baffles me. Let’s assume for a moment that the event happened as reported. People have been having such idiotic fights ever since there have been humans. Half the bars in the world see such brief dustups regularly. It simply doesn’t matter. The fact that so many people believe they need to talk about this — or even need to have opinions about it — is more evidence of the bizarre media brainwashing that convinces many to care passionately about brain-dead trivia. Your life will be happier and saner if you focus on yourself, your family and your friends, not on whatever scripted (or spontaneous) bilge that the media wants to pipe into your home.

I’m in the middle of migrating this website to new servers this week. This means you might encounter some unexpected behavior until I get all the bugs worked out. Clicking on my links (including this one) might cause your browser to give you the message that it’s a site without a current security certificate. It’s not actually unsafe, but there’s something which isn’t yet set up for the security certificate. I apologize for any such errors you might encounter while the process is going on. If you notice any problems with content which didn’t migrate properly, I would appreciate you letting me know the details at davidmcelroy@mac.com. Thanks for your patience.

I often wonder what animals think when they look at us and consider the society we’ve created. Yes, I know this is fanciful and unrealistic, but what if they could? Would they be astounded at how we treat each other? Would they be disgusted by the ugliness and pettiness which fill so many of our daily interactions? The truth is that I’m feeling pretty disgusted with humanity tonight. I made the mistake of reading some online interactions that I should have avoided — and it sickened me. The people involved appeared to be vile and stupid and arrogant. I wish I could pretend they’re a tiny minority, but I know better. It’s times such as this when I most need to escape much of “civilization” and disconnect from their world. If humans are going to be worthy of “ruling this planet,” we have a lot of growth to do. And I fear that growth is nowhere in sight. So my buddy Thomas, above, and all of his friends would be right to judge us harshly — and to think, “Why do you folks get to be in charge?”

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