I had just finished a recording session with the client on the phone. I was feeling relieved because he hadn’t been satisfied with my original voice work so I was concerned about it. It turned out that the producer changed directions once the project got underway. So it wasn’t me after all. And the client was very nice.
The doorbell rang. It was a twenty-something woman I didn’t know asking me if we had a grey cat. No, Spice is a ginger. And he doesn’t go outside. My heart sank.
This woman was a witness to a beautiful grey cat getting run over by a car. And the driver just kept going. She was horrified and worried. I pulled on some boots and a coat and we went to investigate. There sat a pretty grey cat I’ve seen walk through our yard, crouched in the snow of our front garden, hissing.
I called Animal Control and they came to cart her away for assessment. When the animal control officer approached her, she ran like her tail was on fire. Sadly, her hind end wasn’t working properly but still, she moved quickly into the cedars that line the south side of our property. We tried to find her but we lost her. She was obviously hurt and panicked and I felt terrible about leaving her but we walked up and down the cedars and she just wouldn’t be found. Will she survive? I don’t know but it’s painful to even consider.
I have always been against letting cats roam outdoors. It’s too dangerous. It’s disgusting when they crap in your garden, as they will need to do. And the look of terror in this beautiful animal’s eyes only makes me feel stronger about it. When we adopted Spice we had to sign a declaration that we would keep him indoors and that’s the only way we would have it. All I can offer as evidence is the outdoor kitty lying terrified in the snow and our Spice, curled up sleeping, safe, on the warmth of our bed. I’m convinced.