Carmen of the paint splattered face.
I feel like a big mean bully. I finally kicked Carmen the feral kitten, now cat, off the island. She had become increasingly wild, it was pathetic how much she avoided any human contact, and how she hid all the time behind couches, in drawers, or ran away, forced into our room at night by me at a pathetic attempt to socialize her. At 4 in the morning she would start meowing at me to be let out of our bedroom so she could get away from us.
Today when Esperando and the Cowboy went off to scuba dive, I woke up from my nap and started stuffing my face with tortilla chips and the cook’s fiery salsa. Maybe it was the salsa that made me do it, or boredom, but I decided to send her packing. I shut the rest of the pets up in our bedroom, opened the front door and chased her all over the house. After about 3 circuits of the living room/dining area and brief interlude down the hall to the bodega where I rousted her out of the corner she was hiding in there on top of several bags of cat litter, she sat down and started wailing. Her only options were out the front door or being chased around the room. They say a mother’s love transcends all. Her mother, Mrs. Moustache, who has been separated from her for at least 9 months heard her cries and started calling back, almost coming into the living room until she saw me and scattered.
After several more circuits of the living room and more crying from Carmen, complemented by Mrs. Moustache calling back to her, she seemed to make up her mind and went out the front door with Mrs. Moustache calling to her. She walked away from the house looking back over her shoulder at me, like, ‘how could you do this to me?’ I don’t know if she will survive or not. She is so wild and not used to being outside, cars, people, everything frightens her. She may get run over in a couple of days. But at least Mrs. Moustache is there trying to befriend her. Maybe she will get her in line. I don’t hold out much hope, but keeping a really wild cat inside didn’t seem to be the answer either. I am sad and I miss her.
After 9 months of separate lives, black-and-white Mrs. Moustache was outside waiting for her daughter to come back home.