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.
Aren’t you thankful for the right to vote before they take your money?
Don’t be shocked if insane system produces narcissistic leaders
If you must be ‘good enough,’ you’ll never start to be yourself
Peace won’t come until you quit obeying long-gone programmers
Global warming or a new ice age? Anyone who claims to know is lying
Face of a stalker? At Florida school, it’s ‘stalking’ to speak of karma
Happiness and success elude me unless I’m doing something I love
Inner alarm is louder every day; big changes must come to my life