Most days here in KC’s River Market, there are more stray cats roaming the streets than people. While I’ve never really been a fan of the feline, I have to admit that I worry about them. Where do they sleep? How do they eat? All the usual questions that come with a “homeless” scenario.
Then, just the other day, I opened the blinds a few minutes earlier than usual. A white truck pulled around the corner suspiciously slow—suddenly coming to a diagonal stop in middle of the road. I watched from the window of our wannabe CB2 catalog loft, expecting to see a drug deal, trash dump or hooker turning a trick. Contrary to my pessimistic attitude, it was none of the above.
The driver’s side door opened. Within seconds kitty cats of all shapes and sizes began rushing toward the truck. I’d guess 10 or 15 in all. Veiled by the darkness of early morning, a good samaritan began distributing food to the hungry crowd.
Being an accidental witness to the good deed, I felt surprisingly positive about the state of humanity for a moment. That is, until it occurred to me that humanity is most likely to blame for the stray cat population to begin with. Then I was back to neutral. And it was time for work. Epiphany averted, I walked out the door thinking maybe we should buy a bag of cat food the next time we go to the store.
Fertile land for kitty cat reproduction.