Momcat just hit by a car and killed. I picked her up off the street and wrapped her in a towel and put her in a Chewy's box and put the box on the backporch, the screendoor closed to keep coyotes and foxes and dogs from eating her. The ground too frozen to dig to safe depth, I'll take her to the vets for cremation tomorrow
Some man walking his dogs yelled hello, crouching over a painting I thought it was my stomach growling with gas and then the neighbor banged and banged and banged on the door, said a black cat, I knew it was Momcat, I knew it wasn't Frankie
I tried to say to L (last night before I typed this) and C (this morning) and succeeded more than failed how my processing always starts with gratitude I know how and when my feral cats died and they never just disappear and are never seen again so I never have to imagine day after day (and I would imagine day after day year after year) what horrible death they suffered and just process the hard death they had
I'd promise myself I'll never have ferals again as if I have a say and as if I'm not delighted to be adopted by them, dogs and cats have found us for forty years, more will again and good
