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The following story is sad and disgusting. At
first I found it disturbing, but now I've gotten used to it. So why tell
it? Maybe there's a lesson here about how we underestimate the severity of
problems and fail to act while there's still time. It's a helpless, desperate
feeling once it's too late....
We were in the backyard when Sarah asked, "What's Oslik eating?"
Our housemate's cat was crouched in the grass, crunching and munching.
Another bird? Sarah went over and shooed him away
from whatever it was. Then she picked it up gingerly, holding the
bone which protruded from
a furry leg. "It's a paw," she said.
With a sinking feeling Sarah recalled the stray cat she had
seen limping around the backyard yesterday. She'd tried to approach it but
it hobbled away too fast for her to catch. Had it been injured by farm equipment,
a rat trap, or other animal? Did it chew off its injured leg? There was no
telling. We searched all over but there was no sign of the cat. We buried
the leg.
If only she'd known it was so serious she would have tackled
the cat with a towel and brought it to a vet.
I thought of land mines, carbombs, and the USAF. |
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