A Quandary

What are our moral obligations toward creatures who appear to be in need of our help but in no way want it, even flee from it?

This is the dilemma I faced about an hour ago when I was out in the alley taking my trash out (a day late...it feels like a Sunday to this federal worker). Just as I turned to return home, a black cat came scurrying around the corner, and froze, looking at me with that feline look that plainly states "I've only stopped to assess the situation, if you so much as blink I am SO out of here and you'll never catch me". You know, the one you get when you're just a little more than an arm's reach away from your cat when you both know full well why the cat carrier is out. 

Ours is not a town of stray cats. Or really of domestic but allowed outside cats. It's simply not done. Seeing a cat out of doors is pretty rare around here, and chances are that it belongs to someone, and it belongs inside. It was 27 degrees outside and this poor kitty, whether he knew it or not, was ill-equipped to spend the night outside. I did my best to appear non-threatening, I made little "here kitty" type noises, but it kept eyeing me with suspicion and was clearly ready to bolt at any second, which is exactly what it did as soon as I bent my knees. It ran off in the direction of a neighbor's woodpile and probably disappeared in the recesses of it, or under a fence into any one of the backyards along the alley. 

I, dressed only in long underwear, an overcoat and slippers (it was supposed to be a quick run into the alley), was already half frozen and decided that any attempts to chase down the beast would most certainly not work and would only make the cat hide itself better (making it get more lost), further frighten the poor creature (making its willingness to emerge decline) and further freeze my own extremities. I went back inside to get some cat food and a ratty old sweater I placed in a shopping bag thinking maybe it would make itself a semi warm and protected home in there over the course of the evening. 

Once back in the alley, I heard some sort of yelling coming from somewhere within a block or two. It could have been someone calling out a cat's name, or it could have been an unsavory drunk/crazy person. I couldn't tell. Having been a relatively recent victim of crime, I'm kind of skittish late at night. Normally, I'd follow the voice and offer to help but not anymore. Instead, I said as loudly as I dared (but not likely loud enough to be heard by the caller) "is that someone looking for a cat?". When no reply came, I left the food and the makeshift shelter near the woodpile and reluctantly went back inside, feeling a little guilty and hoping that if either of my helpless beasts ever gets out again, their only hope for rescue will be a little more tenacious than me. 

Good luck little guy.

Comments

[Dottie]

Aw, cats are my weakness. The thought of one of my kit cats getting lost outside is terrifying. You did a lot to help the little guy, more than most people would.

[Karen Voyer-Caravona]

You did a good thing and gave it your very best. I can't ignore an animal in distress regardless of how inconvenient the timing or impractical the action. I think of every dog or cat I've ever loved and everyone I know whose lost a pet and am called to action. My husband is the same way.