Settling for survival in spirit.

Hate it when I see dead cats on my walks. Too many of ‘em. Usually, the result of crossing roads.  Accidents. But I suspect that some people are mean-spirited. Towards cats. And maybe towards almost anything.  And they run over cats. Just for the hell of it. The dead cats I see in Sardinia are usually on the curbside. Maybe picked up by motorists or pedestrians. Or maybe the cat I spotted several days ago made it wounded to the curb and  then  died. With blood oozing from the mouth.  The dead cat is still there. And may stay for a while.  Though there are street sweepers. And maybe he’ll be picked up. Given a proper burial. Or incinerated.  He’s a big, burly black cat. Looks like he was in good health.  Back maybe 30 years ago, I let my cats roam. In and out. But one of ‘em was hit by a car. There was great remorse in the family. And after that, all our cats became indoor cats. To this day. Occasionally, I let them take to the yard.  In the summertime. Under close supervision. Gives them a little more sense of what it’s like to be free. But they are under strict rules. No going after birds or chipmunks or anything that’s living. Seems to me that Loverboy and Chenuska have adjusted well to the indoor life. They get lots of attention. And don’t have to go hunting for food. Just like humans. Though some of us do hunt. But not me. I don’t wanna kill anything. Wish we all could live forever. Especially our loved ones.  I’d settle for survival in a spirit world. –Jim Broede