Ok boys and girls, another rant coming up. Expect emotional outbursts and incoherence, all rolled up into one nice little post. Maybe not so little. We’ll see.
This morning, I went for my morning walk. After days of suffering from rahter painful indigestion, I was feeling quite a bit better. So with a big dose of cheeriness, I trotted off downstairs.
Now for the past few weeks, there have been kittens in the yard. Adorable pair, one white and one black and white. Skittish of humans, of course, so I haven’t tried to pet them. I figure their life on the outside is going to be hard enough, without being desensitised to horrible humans. So I mainly left them alone.
Just look at how cute they are! OMG.
Over the past few weeks, as they’ve been getting older, the residents of my building [a sanatorium] have been feeding them. Or at least I think so. In any case, they have the run of the place. And honestly, at least to my knowledge, they’ve done nothing wrong.
A week or so ago, I saw a little boy kicking at them, and pushing them with a stick. I asked him to stop, and tried to make friends with the kittens. But obviously they were more comfortable with the stick-wielding child they knew, rather than this gargantuan stranger they didn’t. Fair enough. I resolved to leave them be, because I certainly couldn’t look after them.
Cut to this morning. Remember the cheery steps with which I ran downstairs? Ha.
It was a little earlier than my usual time, so there were several more residents out and about, since the caretaker *rolls eyes* comes in around that time. [Why I despise this piece of human garbage would take a long post to explain.]
Again, the residents mostly stay away from me, as I am a permanent tenant. And I look very different from them. They are mostly from villages and have a sick child in tow, and thus are dealing with a whole host of problems that are way beyond my pay grade. Today was no different; it was I who accosted them.
I don’t know why Indians have issues with stray animals. Leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. Learn to judge animal behaviour, so you can tell the difference between threatening lunges and friendly overtures. I just do not see the need to kick them. I DO NOT. It makes me see red, and I am more than often afraid of saying anything, because in my experience the animal pays later for that human’s humiliation.
But this is my building too. My turf too. I was having none of it. If only my Hindi hadn’t failed.
I saw a couple of men put the kittens into a gunny sack. At first, I couldn’t see what they were doing, but I did see one carry a kitten out of the compound. I smelt a rat. Went up to them, and asked them what they were doing. Was horrified to see one holding a sack aloft, and a small kitten head poking out the side.
They didn’t understand me, because in my state of stress, I forgot Hindi altogether, and was speaking in English.
So I tried again, this time in the most NRI, broken, miserable Hindi you can imagine: What are you doing?
They replied that they were taking them away. Where, I asked. Far away, so they don’t come back. Holding on tightly to my temper, because I was already incoherent with stress, why I asked. Because they are making a mess of the yard.
I tried to explain that cats in the area help with the rat problem. I tried to tell them that they were far too little to be taken away from their mother, and they would die. Just leave them alone I said. And they did. I guess it wasn’t worth getting into a discussion with me about it. The kittens were left to their own devices, terrified and shivering under a car, but mercifully out of the gunny sack. I went back to my walk.
Then the caretaker then showed up. He was talking about the cats, and I saw the conclave. So I marched up to him, still shaking I might add. What are you doing to the cats? Again, Hindi failed me, and the man doesn’t speak a lick of English.
What I finally gleaned from this whole miserable experience was that the old lady in the back of the building, also a permanent tenant, had objected to their presence. She complained that they were making the place dirty, with bits of food and detritus from garbage.
Don’t feed them then, I said. But leave them alone. They will eventually grow up and leave. He misunderstood me to say that I wanted him to kill them, which of course I didn’t. Thank you broken brain under stress. Finally, I made him understand that he needed to LEAVE THEM ALONE. Stray cats are more than capable of looking after themselves, what with the ample supply of pigeons, crows, sparrows, rats, squirrels, and so on that live in the area.
I have no idea if what I did was right. I am perfectly certain it fell far short of adequate and well-handled. All I know is that an old miserable hag of a human wanted two helpless little kittens to be taken away from their mother just because she objected to random detritus in the yard, which may or may not be because of the crows and the actual humans in the area.
I was so upset, angry, and mostly feeling like a complete failure that, for the first time in my life, I actually cursed someone to suffer as they would have caused suffering to innocent beings.