Yesterday Misty (the feral cat) didn't show up for dinner. Her habit of late has been to appear right at the door, practically ready to ring the doorbell in order to be served. At first it didn't concern me too much. Just thought she was running late. And cats are unpredictable creatures who will gladly worry you if they have a party to attend. Multiple checks for her yielded nothing.
This morning I put out her dry food as usual. Fully expected her to come running within a few minutes. Kept checking, and checking, and checking. No Misty. As Nellie and I were coming home from walkies, a nagging, gloomy feeling came over me. For some reason I was drawn to our corner - the area I call the thicket - and started peering in. There was a dark gray mound, which I really couldn't make out too well, lying in the middle. Could be anything I tried to tell myself, but I just knew. Took Nellie home, called for long suffering partner, and we went out just to reassure me that it was nothing to be alarmed about. It was Misty. A coyote is suspected. There are no words that can convey the rage and sadness her death has caused. She was so close to letting me touch her; she had briefly come into the house. We were making such progress. And then this. She deserved so much better in life. She deserved a loving, safe home. She didn't deserve what happened to her. She will be missed every day.
I found a poem I wrote when I was 17 that sums up my feelings.
I still think of and mourn her with you. But, as I told you, she had love and attention and a sorta home for at least some of her life and so many don't. Keep her close in your heart, she'll stay.
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