Goodbye, Stranger

Today's post might seem a little strange to some; I'm memorializing a cat I don't know. In my mind, he's a "he," but perhaps he's a she. I don't even know. I do know that he's small and brown with light orange spots all over. He has long hair and a black collar. We've met many times but never gotten to know one another. I'm pretty sure I annoyed him to no end.

You see, we've seen this kitty a host of times over the past several weeks as we continue to search for Mr. Squiggles. He inhabits the same area Mr. S was last spotted. Every time I would see this little guy, for just a second, I thought he could be my own. Plus, seeing him, a healthy, living, outdoor cat, gave me hope that our own little hunter could survive out there in the big, bad world.

Saturday night, I found my little mystery friend dead. Out checking traps before bed, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. I stopped the car and backed up to the animal. My headlights only revealed to me that this figure was a dark, long-haired cat. Mr. Squiggles? I had to get out with my flashlight and check. The first thing revealed to me was the tell-tale dark collar, and I knew in that instant that kitty wasn't my own, but the little guy who had given me so much hope across the weeks.

What happened to him? I couldn't tell. He seemed uninjured, but obviously, dead. Perhaps he was sick, or perhaps we was hit by a car. All I know is he deserved better than to end his life along the side of the road, eyes open, tongue out, collecting frost as the night cooled. I wanted to scoop him up and honor him with a proper burial, but the frightened parent inside of me said, "No. He's wearing a collar. Some other family like you could be tortured wondering where he is. They deserve a chance to find him." Three days later, he is still there. We are giving his family more time, but I still ache to rescue him every time I drive by.

Each time I see him, I am reminded that my own boy is still out there, apart from us. By seeing my mysterious friend, I had hope that Mr. S could survive too. Now, seeing his soul-less body lying there, I am reminded that it's a rough, dangerous world. I fear for my boy, and I miss him beyond words. But I also grieve, in my own way, for this little unknown kitty, who merely by existing, provided a small measure of comfort to a frightened girl.

Goodbye, little stranger. I'll miss seeing you around.