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From: Noon Cat Nick on 22 Aug 2008 00:47
The old stone church is a fixture at what has become a busy intersection
in my growing town. The church's crumbling foundation houses the
catacombs, accessible to both rodents and the colony of feral cats that
took up residence years ago. The cats keep the rodent population under
control, but no one monitors the cats' numbers closely. Parishioners
occasionally feed the strays, and one kind woman has tried to trap, tame
and adopt out some of the many kittens the colony produces.

I pass the church daily on my way to and from work, always marveling at
the array of acts adorning the steps and stone walls, or sitting atop
gravestones. With six cats of my own, I can't adopt any more, no matter
how much I want to.

The cat colony has its own social hierarchy, based on the prin ciple
that only the fittest survive. At one point, one red male tabby appeared
to be the patriarch. With ripped ears and scars across his wide face, he
swaggered around the neighborhood, secure in his position as top cat.
Challenges to his authority - from subordinate colony members or the
neighborhood's indoor/outdoor house cats - were met fiercely. Screaming
vocalizations, slashing claws and sharp bites kept the red tabby in
power. He might not have been popular among the local male cats or their
owners, but his prowess was legendary among the female cats. Many red
kittens appeared during his reign.

Returning home extremely late one evening, I heard the squeal of brakes
and then the revving of an engine as a car peeled out somewhere ahead of
me. Rounding the corner where the church stood, my headlights
illuminated a still, red form in the middle of the road. With emergency
flashers on, I stopped in the middle of the now deserted street. Before
I could get out of my car to check the cat, a black-and-white cat came
dashing out of the catacombs and rushed to the tabby. With a tentative
paw, it gently touched the prone cat, sniffing him from head to tail.
The tabby never moved; neither did I.

The black-and-white cat sat down next to the tabby's body, threw back
its head and howled. Within seconds, cats came pouring out of the church
foundation, dozens of them, of every size and color. In a well-ordered
procession, each one circled the body and its black-and-white guardian,
then headed back under the church. As the last of the cort�ge
disappeared into the catacombs, the black-and-white cat continued its
vigil for a few more minutes, gazing at the tabby. Once again, it
reached out and touched the tabby with a paw, then followed the others.

Stunned at what I'd just witnessed, what I can only describe as a feline
funeral, I sat silently crying, awed by the display and saddened by the
red cat's death. Not wanting to leave him for the road department's
inglorious disposal, I took the tabby home and buried him alongside my
own departed pets. I wish I'd been able to bury him in the church
graveyard, but I'm sure he's happy two blocks over, where his spirit can
still wander his familiar territory forever.

--Linda Mihatov
From: Linda on 22 Aug 2008 00:55
Thats very touching, Nick. Cats grieve too. My momma cat recently lost
her only kitten and is still grieving. A picture of the church with
the cats would be nice, wouldn't it?

Noon Cat Nick wrote:
> The old stone church is a fixture at what has become a busy intersection
> in my growing town. The church's crumbling foundation houses the
> catacombs, accessible to both rodents and the colony of feral cats that
> took up residence years ago. The cats keep the rodent population under
> control, but no one monitors the cats' numbers closely. Parishioners
> occasionally feed the strays, and one kind woman has tried to trap, tame
> and adopt out some of the many kittens the colony produces.
>
> I pass the church daily on my way to and from work, always marveling at
> the array of acts adorning the steps and stone walls, or sitting atop
> gravestones. With six cats of my own, I can't adopt any more, no matter
> how much I want to.
>
> The cat colony has its own social hierarchy, based on the prin ciple
> that only the fittest survive. At one point, one red male tabby appeared
> to be the patriarch. With ripped ears and scars across his wide face, he
> swaggered around the neighborhood, secure in his position as top cat.
> Challenges to his authority - from subordinate colony members or the
> neighborhood's indoor/outdoor house cats - were met fiercely. Screaming
> vocalizations, slashing claws and sharp bites kept the red tabby in
> power. He might not have been popular among the local male cats or their
> owners, but his prowess was legendary among the female cats. Many red
> kittens appeared during his reign.
>
> Returning home extremely late one evening, I heard the squeal of brakes
> and then the revving of an engine as a car peeled out somewhere ahead of
> me. Rounding the corner where the church stood, my headlights
> illuminated a still, red form in the middle of the road. With emergency
> flashers on, I stopped in the middle of the now deserted street. Before
> I could get out of my car to check the cat, a black-and-white cat came
> dashing out of the catacombs and rushed to the tabby. With a tentative
> paw, it gently touched the prone cat, sniffing him from head to tail.
> The tabby never moved; neither did I.
>
> The black-and-white cat sat down next to the tabby's body, threw back
> its head and howled. Within seconds, cats came pouring out of the church
> foundation, dozens of them, of every size and color. In a well-ordered
> procession, each one circled the body and its black-and-white guardian,
> then headed back under the church. As the last of the cort�ge
> disappeared into the catacombs, the black-and-white cat continued its
> vigil for a few more minutes, gazing at the tabby. Once again, it
> reached out and touched the tabby with a paw, then followed the others.
>
> Stunned at what I'd just witnessed, what I can only describe as a feline
> funeral, I sat silently crying, awed by the display and saddened by the
> red cat's death. Not wanting to leave him for the road department's
> inglorious disposal, I took the tabby home and buried him alongside my
> own departed pets. I wish I'd been able to bury him in the church
> graveyard, but I'm sure he's happy two blocks over, where his spirit can
> still wander his familiar territory forever.
>
> --Linda Mihatov
From: Noon Cat Nick on 22 Aug 2008 01:16
Linda wrote:

> Thats very touching, Nick. Cats grieve too. My momma cat recently lost
> her only kitten and is still grieving. A picture of the church with
> the cats would be nice, wouldn't it?

Also reminds me of cavalierly we treat animals' emotions. I see so many
people taking litters to shelters, or advertizing kittens to give away.
And my mind goes back to a sentence from the 1998 book _Disposable
Animals_ by Craig Brestrup: "A woman brings to the humane society a box
with a litter of kittens, her third this year, with mother cat at home
grieving and still fertile." This is what happens when we treat those
companion animals in our charge as disposable.

Right now I'm in a personal state which necessitates me moving into a
group home. But if I can't find one which will let me keep my cat Leo, I
don't know what I'll do. It's more than just me pining for him in his
absence: it's also Leo confused and grieving because I'm no longer
around and him not knowing why. It's the fear of Leo sinking into
abandonment depression because he and I can no longer be together. And I
start sobbing every time I think about. I have no idea what to do.
From: Robert A. Fink, M. D. on 22 Aug 2008 19:22
On Fri, 22 Aug 2008 05:16:22 GMT, Noon Cat Nick
<chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE(a)hotmail.com> wrote:

>Also reminds me of cavalierly we treat animals' emotions. I see so many
>people taking litters to shelters, or advertizing kittens to give away.
>And my mind goes back to a sentence from the 1998 book _Disposable
>Animals_ by Craig Brestrup: "A woman brings to the humane society a box
>with a litter of kittens, her third this year, with mother cat at home
>grieving and still fertile." This is what happens when we treat those
>companion animals in our charge as disposable.


There is the common debate as to whether animals have souls or not. I
firmly believe that they do indeed have souls, and that they are very
much a part of God's Plan. He puts those little kitties and puppies
(and others) here to teach us humans how to love....

Best,

Bob

Robert A. Fink, M. D., FACS, P. C.
Neurological Surgery
2500 Milvia Street Suite 222
Berkeley, CA 94704-2636 USA
510-849-2555

"Ex Tristitia Virtus"
From: Noon Cat Nick on 22 Aug 2008 20:22
Robert A. Fink, M. D. wrote:
> On Fri, 22 Aug 2008 05:16:22 GMT, Noon Cat Nick
> <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE(a)hotmail.com> wrote:
>
>
>>Also reminds me of cavalierly we treat animals' emotions. I see so many
>>people taking litters to shelters, or advertizing kittens to give away.
>>And my mind goes back to a sentence from the 1998 book _Disposable
>>Animals_ by Craig Brestrup: "A woman brings to the humane society a box
>>with a litter of kittens, her third this year, with mother cat at home
>>grieving and still fertile." This is what happens when we treat those
>>companion animals in our charge as disposable.
>
>
>
> There is the common debate as to whether animals have souls or not. I
> firmly believe that they do indeed have souls, and that they are very
> much a part of God's Plan. He puts those little kitties and puppies
> (and others) here to teach us humans how to love....
>
> Best,
>
> Bob
>
> Robert A. Fink, M. D., FACS, P. C.
> Neurological Surgery
> 2500 Milvia Street Suite 222
> Berkeley, CA 94704-2636 USA
> 510-849-2555
>
> "Ex Tristitia Virtus"

Then you might appreciate the following site:

http://members.tripod.com/~Near_to_God/AllThings.html
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