Morning Adventure

On our morning walk Nero, my German Shepherd, discovered an injured cat, most probably a feral or barn cat. The reality of life and death for cats on the fields, without homes or responsible caregivers, is extremely harsh. Their deaths are not peaceful. They may crawl behind a building or under a bush where you do not see them, but most often they die slowly, in agony. This cat violently trembled and shivered but remained silent, almost paralyzed, giving no sound. Fortunately, a vet is living near and I carefully picked up the cat, wrapped it in my scarf for transportation and took it to the vet for treatment.
The feline - a young girl - seemed to suffer from a (fighting?) trauma and is slightly malnourished but luckily nothing too serious in her overall condition. Two or three days of vet care, ample food and the little cat will be almost as 'newly born'.
Obviously, the kitty is cautious in dealing with people but not too shy to find a good home. Color and fur reminds me of a cat I had in my youth.

The first cat I ever had was a typical country cat called 'Muschi' (= the German equivalent of 'Kitty'). Muschi was one of only two survivors from the litter of a barn cat (the farmer killed the rest. the mother cat tried to rescue her remaining kittens. My cousin and myself observed the tragedy, started 'fighting' the farmer and took each one of the little felines to our home.)
He was a very handsome and outgoing cat who liked to interact with all people. Once fully grown his greatest fun was fighting muskrats almost his size and 'Muschi' never failed to make my mom screaming by presenting one of his dead trophies at her feet. Muschi performed another service as attack cat to chase away intruders into his territory which was our house. He scared the mailman (actually his friend) - fur fluffed - who tried to enter the house and none of Muschi's humans were around ... (Hasso, our German Shepherd even didn't open an eye for it was just the postman ...)

The death of this friendly and beloved cat – the scene of its very sudden death – remains glowing in my mind with great drama. I was about seven or eight years old at the time and I was standing at the window of my family’s house watching Muschi. He was sitting in a grassy stripe opposite a small track with very little farm traffic and then started a bit late leaping across the lane back home in front of a rapidly approaching car. Then I watched as the car hit. He jumped really high and came down on his side. Muschi died instantly, its dead eyes staring up at me. It was the first death I had ever encountered and I still can’t quite believe that Muschi is dead. More than 50 years passed but I'm not ashamed to admit that still some water obscured my vision when I reminiscent that great feline.


  1. They say it takes a minute to find a special friend. An hour to appreciate them. A day to love them. And an entire life to forget them.


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