Question of the Day - Are Pets Really Toys?

They offered me to take in a cat yesterday. I don’t think I can, yet. It doesn’t feel right.

The poor soul needs a home but I still have the presence of Cat lurking in the corners of mine. I keep seeing her. Until she’s there, I’m not ready for a new companion. It’s way too soon.

This cat – it’s a year old Persian boy - was given up by his family. And his tale made me boil with anger.

Children, there’s three of them, wanted a pet. Parents got them a cat. I could just bet there was some serious whining and persuasion before parents agreed to buy such an expensive pedigree cat.

A year later, kids change their minds and suddenly don’t want to take care of the cat anymore. Too much trouble, you see. Toys are not supposed to be trouble. Persians require grooming, special care and whatnot.

And what do parents do? They give him up. Worse, the mother brought the cat to her work and asked people if someone wanted him. She doesn’t even intend to take him back home anymore.

These parents do not talk to the kids about responsibility, they don’t do any parenting job, and they don’t even consider taking care of the cat by themselves. They just get rid of a pest that previously much desired pet has turned into.

People, please! Whatever happened to the elemental morals? Pets cannot take care of themselves. We are the ones who domesticated them and, therefore, are responsible for them! Yes, I understand that everybody has to work for living but taking care of a cat is not so time-consuming! A half an hour a day would do. Even less on really busy days. I know. I had a cat just last week.

The habitual cruelty and inconsideration people so often show towards animals is unbelievable. Animals might not be able to talk but they do feel things. They understand things. And they hurt. They are not pieces of furniture you can throw out if you don’t like the colour scheme anymore. Yes, there really was a story like that behind a cat given away to the animal shelter in Riga. She hadn't matched the new colour scheme after re-decoration, and the proud owners threw her out. Such attitude disgusts me.

Thankfully, I’m absolutely sure this Persian will find a new home in no time. He’s a well-behaved pedigree cat with all the papers, and there are a lot of people who find it desirable. He’ll be snatched up in a minute. Or at least I really, really hope so. If not… we’ll see.

I’m one of those strange people who consider pets their friends. And somehow I have a feeling he or she will come when the time’s right. It’s what usually happens in my life. Things just happen when the time is right. That’s what Cat did, after all. She just showed up one day, and moved in with me.

I keep thinking about that little corner where I buried her. A nice, sunny spot on the fringe of a forest, clearly visible from my friend’s house. Among pine-trees and under hyacinths, violets and sun-flowers. Yes, I did plant flowers for her, I’m melodramatic like that. And previously mentioned friend (who owns the house and, along with two more friends, helped me bury Cat) made us throw three handfuls of sand in her little grave. It’s a tradition performed in Latvian funerals. So there. I’m not the only one sentimental.

Other news - I'm starting to smile again.