There is No Magical Pet Paradise Just Outside of Briley Parkway



I know I harp on this a lot. But I'm going to say it again. If you cannot take care of your pet and you cannot rehome it yourself, take it to a shelter or to animal control. Yes, if you take it to animal control, it may be killed. If you leave it by the side of the road in, say, Whites Creek, it will definitely be killed. If it's not hit by a car, a coyote will eat it, or someone will shoot it.

Pets dumped out in the country do not fend for themselves. They suffer a great deal, needlessly, and then they die. That is what happens to them.

I'm now going to take a moment to directly address the person who left the orange kitten on Lloyd Road where I found it Thursday morning. I'm going to do so after the jump, so that decent people don't have to have their whole days ruined.

Dear Asshole,

I found your cat. He cried for help after he was hit, but he sat there by the side of the road for a long time, covered in his own shit and piss. One of his back legs was facing the wrong direction. The other was obviously broken, but less so. He was covered in ticks.

He didn't cry when I picked him up. He seemed relieved that there was someone else to worry about him. He peed down my shirt. He couldn't control his bladder, probably because he got hit by a fucking car thanks to you. He had a lot of water, which went, as you can imagine, pretty much straight through him. He fell asleep in the cat food.

In the brief time I knew him, he was a great cat. Very quiet and very friendly for someone who had, you know, been hit by a car and was forced by circumstances to wear his own excrement. When I got the box he was in out of the backseat of my car to bring him into Animal Control, he was so still and I asked him, "Hey, did you die?" After a second, his front paw twitched.

But when we got into the building, in spite of all the barking dogs, he didn't stir again. When the woman at the reception desk looked into the box, her face fell. "I'll just take him straight back to the vet," she said, but then the box with your dead kitten sat between us. Because we both knew there was no hurry.

So, if you thought you gave it some chance at freedom, at life, rather than take it to Animal Control, rest assured, all you did was make sure that it suffered a great deal. In a just world, you'd never be able to get the smell of that cat out of your nose — all piss and shit and pain and fear.

But we don't live in a just world. So. You sleep well tonight, and I'll try to.


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