The past week has been pretty grim. Mama Cat is dead. She was killed by a pitbull. It was on Monday, June 27th, just after 6pm. I was in the house. I hadn't gone to work that day and hadn't even bothered to get dressed. I heard Tina outside screaming Mama Cat's name and then alternately, my name. I rushed to the door and as I stood on the steps I saw a kid bicycling off with a tan pitbull on a leash. He made eye contact with me and his eyes slid away and he continued to slowly bicycle on down the street. I rushed downstairs and saw a group of people, the neighborhood kids and Tina and Phil all looking at Mama Cat. She lay on the ground. Her eyes were open. I leaned over to touch her and realized she was gone. But, the realization wasn't enough. I leaned back and put my hands over my face and prayed, help her. Help me. Please take care of her. I picked her up, cradling her, holding her, hugging her. She was gone. I took her upstairs and laid her on the soft blue blanket on our bed and cried over her.
Phil called the police. They came to talk to us. There was nothing they could do. Evidently, a cat, unless it is a show cat, no matter how domesticated it is, is still considered feral. As such nobody gets too excited about it when they are killed. I couldn't believe I was hearing this. I lost interest in talking to the police officer when he said those things. Only in Oakland. He did say he would investigate. The neighborhood children had followed the guy as he wheeled off onto MacArthur Blvd and on down until they stopped at High Street. He continued on and they were able to determine that he veered off toward Mills College. The police officer said in the past 3 days they'd had reports of people releasing pit bulls from their cars to attack cats. The kids said he deliberately released his dog and sicced him on Mama Cat.
This is such violence that I am still shuddering from it. I told some people at work about it. But, I haven't told anybody I channel for. I've just been grieving for my cat.
I can channel her too. It's not like I have lost contact with her. She said she woke up in my mother's arms. She said there are pitbulls in heaven, but nobody minds because everybody gets along. She said she loved me. Today she told me that she had been protecting us all and had stayed in danger. The dog could have gotten Samantha, her daughter, or Fluffy Drawers who were both downstairs. The dog could have gone up the stairs to get Mitzie who is 18 years old and doesn't move fast at all anymore. Mama Cat said she was just doing her job which was to watch out for us. She said it's much nicer there anyway, so she's glad to have lived with us, but she doesn't mind where she is right now.
Every once inawhile it hits me. And, I cry for her. I cry for the times she would always stop by as I was making my lunch and wanted a piece of ham. I cry for the times when she would race up the steps ahead of us when we got home from work. I cry for the times she would always come to greet us when we'd get out of the car. I cry for the times she'd follow me to the store and sit on the corner or in the Budhist temple yard waiting until I was done and walking home. She'd race on ahead and pause to scratch a little bit on the telephone pole before we'd cross the street together. I remember how she was always interested in her breakfast. I remember how she'd spend most nights in the good weather over on Phil's porch sleeping under his grill.
We've had so many cats recently who've passed on. Molly and Millie and Gertie it seems not so long ago. Now, Mama Cat. It breaks my heart. But, I think too of how lucky we've been we had these animals with us for so many years. They all were rescued. Each one of them has a place in my heart that will always be there. It's been a long week.