Cats gets me. As in - they get to me in a deep inner way. This morning I went about my Sunday morning with camera in hand as I like to do most Sundays. On Sundays I like travelling around the island taking photos of all sorts of things. Today I went to a place with lots of old shutters - full of charm and atmospheric patina. It's all very pleasant and enjoyable. Only as I go about my morning I'm aware of a slightly uneasy feeling, so I know something is in store - only I don't know what.
After a while I pack up my camera and slowly head out of town. Just as I roll out of the narrow streets I spot a back-yard with a small colony of cats. A very familiar scene only there's this black little guy sitting in front of them all and his skinniness instantly troubles me. Most cats are adults and looks sort of allright but the little black kitten is clearly emaciated. I get out of the car to leave a bit of food and to check if there's any water in the two plastic containers left of the wall. There's no water at all in the plastic containers (and it is seriously hot at the moment) so I fill them both to the brim. I leave some food as well but the little guy goes straight for the water. He's obviously dehydrated. Afterwards he disinterested nibbles a bit of food. Maybe it's a sign that someone feeds these cats but I can't quite figure then why this little one is so emaciated. I can't approach him as he's a little feral so I sit back in the car and take a few shots with my camera.
As I sit and take a few shots this other little guy appears out of the shade from somewhere. And with this one it is serious. He (or she) has this pained, rigid and very slow walk. Like there's nothing left in the tiny body to keep the limbs going. As I step out of the car to get a closer look he staggers back towards where he came from so I instantly step backwards again. I get the sense that he urgently needs water so I place one of the plastic containers as close as I can and step further back. He doesn't drink but finds the food and grabs one pellet with his mouth - and lets it drop again. It appears there's no strength left.
I'm left in a huge contradiction as I want to help these two little kittens - and I want to do it now. But I've go no transport box and they're too feral (meaning they could go into some sort of chock if I try to catch them in this extreme heat). I feel genuinely concerned about the little white and grey tabby and decide to come back in the evening when it's cooled off. His state is just such that I don't know if he'll make it through the day.
As I drive away I'm aware that a morning full of "perfectly pleasant" has completely subsided. These kittens "got me." Cats in need gets me. I cannot stand their pain. It stays with me until I've figured what I can do to help them. And it's a strange feeling - a peculiar contradiction. I feel like God gave me cats. It brings me into contact with inner chambers of myself. It's a place where I like to be.
I know a crisis psychologist who travels around the world whereever major catastrophes takes place. He once described how much he loves his job because it makes him feel alive and how he just loves the way peoples humanity instantly kicks in when a catastrophy has occured. Everyone helps everyone. I can utterly relate to the feeling why he loves his job.
What gets you?
P.S. I will go back later today and see if there is anything I can do.