CAT WITH NO NAME
I didn't give him on account that I was at my wits end in finding and feeding strays in the back of the building I own. I kept feeding them a couple of cans a day because, we'll, i'm not a heartless human being and these are creatures that co-exist in the world around me. But the moment I saw him, I knew he was just one of those eager strays. No clue if he had a home before, but given the fact that he had no fear in me, it could very well mean just that.
He was a cat with two tones. Black on the top and white on in his belly and for half of his face. Looked constantly like a masked super hero in the night as you can only see the eyes as well as his underside.
He was a real aggressive one when it came to food. I would put the canned friskies on the plate outside and he would bolt to it being the first one to chomp down as much of it as he could. The other normal strays that I put out food for would just take their time because they knew I would show up or I always had more. This little guy was desperate and you could tell. I felt terrible for him.
Especially a couple of weeks ago when he showed up, bolted to the food with what looked like his back legs being held up with a puppeteer's string as he seemed to have a gash on his back butt and tail area. He still was eager for the food so I had hoped that he was still in good spirits.
But yeah, he was stumbling around a lot with the two back legs that looked like they could take some weight but were just wobbling back and forth. I put some treatment stuff on it when I could and as he was distracted, but I had no idea if it would do anything for him or not.
A few nights later I saw him out in the front of the building hiding under some cars waiting for me. He meowed a little and then when I gestured that I was taking some food out back, he wobbled his way following me. It was a nice little feeling, that even though he was hurt, he still looked to me for some help and it made me feel good to help out a little. Life can be tough, making it easier for someone else is one of those things that you just should do as a human being.
The last few days he hasn't been as eager to eat. It used to be he would still be the fastest to the food even with those wonky slinky like legs. But in the end he just didn't care for the canned food sitting right in front of him. Ants already crawling on his gash on his back and on him. He just laid down near me completely flat on the floor and accepted the petting that I could provide.
I could feel there was already dirt in his fur. He hadn't been maintaining himself at all. It probably didn't help the open wound that he was laying under the building for most of the day. It just sort of felt like he was slowly already burying himself.
Stroking the top of his head, getting dirt in my fingers, I could feel him purring. I have no clue if this was doing much for him productively, I just knew it was what he clearly wanted right now.
I regret not giving him a name. Then again, there's a lot of strays that have left me in their short lifespan that I did name that I later regret not remembering what I called them when I think of them. I suppose it's better that I just think of them at all. They're remembered. Not that it matters to them, but it effects and touches me in a certain way to know that even for a brief moment, I made a life a little easier - A little better.
In the end of the day, that's all anyone can really do