Sunday Scribblings offers the prompt, indulgence.
How long does it take a cat to die?
Today a stranger's cat awaited its end on my patio concrete which the sun was heating to a sizzle. He was unable to move more than an inch at a time on a day with a forecast temp of 90. I was torn between wanting to snuff him and to save him.
Where did he come from? Indulgent owners?
Those indulgent do-gooders who profess to love cats by decorating their city houses and neighboring yards with them? Those town dwellers who profess a love for cats but decline to care for them? Those indulgent apartment people who acquire a kitten for a few minutes of silly pleasure before they turn it loose to fend for itself?
Free-range cats work on farms where rodents and mice roam but to have a free-range cat in town smacks of the worst kind of irresponsible indulgence.
This might be the first of my seven-hundred posts which will be image naked for obvious reasons. Tomorrow, images will resume.