Kit-Kat is Kaput I'm afraid. She's gone. I haven't seen her since Friday. Maybe she went somewhere else, but female cats don't really wander. She never was nice. I was just a feedbag. It's not her fault. See that clipped ear? Some "do-gooder" captured her, took her to have her reproductive organs ripped out, then set her free with stitches in her belly and a clipped ear that said to those in the know, "I'm barren." It would have been much better if they had simply put her to sleep. Her life was pretty shitty, I think. Fleas, maybe ticks, worms. . . she was always scratching. You see her looking here? She would take a bite of food and then anxiously look around. She could not relax until she had finished. Then, for a little while, she would lie on the deck and groom herself in front of me. She'd roll on her back from side to side. If her boyfriend came, she would get between us and herd him. He would kiss her and lick her butt until she bothered him too much when he would suddenly hiss and bat at her. Then, maybe, they would both lie down. If he wasn't there, though, she would hang around for a bit, then either climb the tree and get onto the neighbor's roof or wander off to whatever bush she slept under.
Here she is before she had a name, when she was a starving stray who showed up at my door. I had no cat food, so I fed her eggs and milk mixed and heated in the microwave until it was just beginning to solidify.
And later, here on the old rotten deck, after I made her fat.
I didn't name her. Someone else did. I never liked the name, but it was apropos for the ear thing--Scarlet. Scar. And so it was.
Today I will take up her food and water bowls and wash them and put them away. I will take the big bag of cat food over to my mother's neighbor friends who just adopted a new cat. Cat food has gotten to be very expensive. I guess there is some savings there.
Sitting on the deck last night with the neighbor's cat, we both were looking around, waiting, I guess. When he left, as boy cats have to, I felt abandoned once again. I will not get up in the morning or drive home in the afternoon expecting to see her. It's a little weird.
Just another memory, another piece of the past.
Or as the Prankster's preferred. . . further.
Her idea, not mine. Still, you know, she could be the keeper of of the house. Miss Kitty, if you will.
Kitty. That was unconscious but funny.
I'll try to do something interesting today. I may go out for a bit tonight just to see. Get material. Something might happen. And I will continue to work toward a website. Then, you know, people will let me photograph them once again because. . . I'll be a REAL photographer!
Then I will come home to a house with no Kit-Kat. Everything Kaput.
And so it goes.