last night just plain sucked ass.
driving to work at around dusk, tooling down Main Street, I looked in my rear-view window to see what looked like a little piece of carpet flipping up between a car & a pick-up.
I flipped around & went back, as did the car & the pick-up. the truck was driven by a kid maybe 16 or 17, the car by a woman on her way to Vegas--the little piece of carpet was a little grey cat. there was an abandoned drive-thru nearby& the cat had taken refuge under a covered car, understandably pissed-off. the kid with the pick-up was trying to coax her out & said that it looked like both hind legs had been broken. the woman on her way to Vegas was munching on a piece of chicken & had torn off a piece as an offering.
I went to the gas station a little ways down & reported it to the cops & pretty much got the reaction I expected, namely: "Big fucking deal--shoot it or leave it, it's just a cat."--(she didn't SAY that, but it was all in the tone, which bugs me a lot more than it should, maybe--but if you read the Police Blotter for this town the total activity over a week usually consists of maybe 4 entries for "noise complaints", 2 for "Alarm Set Off--False Alarm" & one for "Shoplifting Juvenile"--in addition, a couple of nights a week work in a tower post designated "Radio Base" which has a police scanner--dispatch-officer traffic usually consisting of two or 3 license checks--so it's not exactlly an overburdened police force.)
anyway, I went back to the drive-thru. the kid was joined by a friend & they were still trying to coax the cat out. the cat wasn't making any noise except furios hissing & slashing when I reached for her. both back legs were splayed & limp but she was putting up a good fight with the two that worked.
I was late for work.
I gave the kid my VISA & wrote down my address & phone number. told him that the police had been called--would he take her to the vet if she could be fixed up?
yeah, sure, he said. I didn't know what else to do.
when I got to work I called my sister (which I should've done first off) & asked her to drive down & take over.
I called a couple of hours later & she said she'd gone down, but there were no kids, no cops, no cat.
I asked the kid to drop off the card at the gas station (I wasn't worried about abuse--sort of like that scene in "Clerks" with the change on the counter--GIVING your card to someone isn't the same thing as having it taken or found.)
I was hoping, but not really expecting, word that the cat was at the vets, but I'd be able to pick her up later in the day.
it was there when I stopped off after work, with a note saying the cat had been put to sleep.
thing is: I'm the type of person that washes plastic utensils & ziploc bags. I'm reluctant to lend even small sums of money to good friends that would step in front of a bullet for me, if need be--but I was fully prepared to empty out my bank account to fix up this little grey cat.
thing is: I keep banging my head over the fact that maybe if I'd called my sister first, things might've turned out different. (don't know if I've mentioned this before, but she's a bad-ass) but it just didn't occur to me until 10 minutes later.
thing is: this bites. there's no moral here. I'll replace this with something not quite as meaningless in a little bit.
driving to work at around dusk, tooling down Main Street, I looked in my rear-view window to see what looked like a little piece of carpet flipping up between a car & a pick-up.
I flipped around & went back, as did the car & the pick-up. the truck was driven by a kid maybe 16 or 17, the car by a woman on her way to Vegas--the little piece of carpet was a little grey cat. there was an abandoned drive-thru nearby& the cat had taken refuge under a covered car, understandably pissed-off. the kid with the pick-up was trying to coax her out & said that it looked like both hind legs had been broken. the woman on her way to Vegas was munching on a piece of chicken & had torn off a piece as an offering.
I went to the gas station a little ways down & reported it to the cops & pretty much got the reaction I expected, namely: "Big fucking deal--shoot it or leave it, it's just a cat."--(she didn't SAY that, but it was all in the tone, which bugs me a lot more than it should, maybe--but if you read the Police Blotter for this town the total activity over a week usually consists of maybe 4 entries for "noise complaints", 2 for "Alarm Set Off--False Alarm" & one for "Shoplifting Juvenile"--in addition, a couple of nights a week work in a tower post designated "Radio Base" which has a police scanner--dispatch-officer traffic usually consisting of two or 3 license checks--so it's not exactlly an overburdened police force.)
anyway, I went back to the drive-thru. the kid was joined by a friend & they were still trying to coax the cat out. the cat wasn't making any noise except furios hissing & slashing when I reached for her. both back legs were splayed & limp but she was putting up a good fight with the two that worked.
I was late for work.
I gave the kid my VISA & wrote down my address & phone number. told him that the police had been called--would he take her to the vet if she could be fixed up?
yeah, sure, he said. I didn't know what else to do.
when I got to work I called my sister (which I should've done first off) & asked her to drive down & take over.
I called a couple of hours later & she said she'd gone down, but there were no kids, no cops, no cat.
I asked the kid to drop off the card at the gas station (I wasn't worried about abuse--sort of like that scene in "Clerks" with the change on the counter--GIVING your card to someone isn't the same thing as having it taken or found.)
I was hoping, but not really expecting, word that the cat was at the vets, but I'd be able to pick her up later in the day.
it was there when I stopped off after work, with a note saying the cat had been put to sleep.
thing is: I'm the type of person that washes plastic utensils & ziploc bags. I'm reluctant to lend even small sums of money to good friends that would step in front of a bullet for me, if need be--but I was fully prepared to empty out my bank account to fix up this little grey cat.
thing is: I keep banging my head over the fact that maybe if I'd called my sister first, things might've turned out different. (don't know if I've mentioned this before, but she's a bad-ass) but it just didn't occur to me until 10 minutes later.
thing is: this bites. there's no moral here. I'll replace this with something not quite as meaningless in a little bit.