Ignorant Souls

Long ago, KAT forwarded me the name of an Albany man who wanted help getting his female cat fixed. At that time, Poppa was considering closing Recycled Gardens and Countryside Vet had just changed hands. Poppa had asked that I limit use of funds to dire need people who did not qualify for a SafeHaven voucher. So KAT told him about the SafeHaven voucher.

Tonight, shy of cats for tomorrow, I called him up, to see if he'd gotten his cat fixed. He hadn't and she's pregnant AGAIN! I said "No problem. She can be fixed tomorrow." He said "What would happen to the kittens?" I said "The anesthesia would put them to sleep (she's barely pregnant anyhow)."

Oh my god, his reaction was akin to him being an extreme anti abortionist, you know, the type who are pro-life abortion doctor killers. That type. He said he had ethics and morals (implying I had none). I quickly tried to explain to him, about the gravity of the overpopulation problem, how cats are being tossed out like trash everywhere in Linn County because there are not enough homes and no place for them, how kittens are trying to survive in flea infested yards and mother cats are nursing kittens with an eye hanging out of its socket.

He didn't want to hear this because he was on a moral soapbox. He said he gives his kittens to a local pet store and they give them out with a spay/neuter coupon. I said "I don't think I'm getting the point across well. If your kittens get homes, others don't, and they die out there, because there aren't enough homes and there are too many cats."

In the end, I told him he'd be killing kittens anyway. He said "Not by my hands." Actually, indirectly, yes by his hands. He needs to connect the dots. It's so much easier and guiltfree and moral soapboxy not to, to deny one's own culpability, to remain ignorant, in the manner of looking away if one's sees something uncomfortably suffering, in the manner of distant sanctioned killing, only he wasn't pulling the trigger. Like hiring a hitman to kill, so you can feel your hands are clean of blood and proudly display your clean hands.

But I see the blood every day. My hands are awash in it. I know his actions cause death out there. He has stuck his sanctimonious head in the sand. I'd love to yank it out and open his eyes to the realities out there. I'd love to. But, his Bible blinders are glued tight to his eyes. He might be permanently blind. Especially if he likes blindness because it's easier to live with.

But my statement made him angrily demand to know the company I work for, like he was going to make a complaint. Like I get paid! Ha! If he called Poppa Inc and complained, he'd get chewed out royal with no holds barred, for his behavior.

Because I had to tell him, a nonprofit funds the fixes I do, and that the money is made by a handfull of volunteers working their butts off to pay to fix cats that owners don't bother fixing. I then told him, like I have to, I would be unable to help him get his cat fixed later, because Poppa has standards and if a person knowingly is letting their cat breed more kittens, contributing to the overpopulation problem hence, suffering and death, and they refuse when they have a chance to get the cat fixed, that's it and they will have to find a way to get the cat fixed themselves. This made him angry and huffier.

It's hard to understand people and why they feel they have a right to indulge their twisted brand of ethics and still have someone else, volunteers no less, clean up after them and pay the costs. If he wants to breed his cat, then he needs to pay the cost. We don't have to help him either way, but Poppa does have some rules about this sort of thing, and one of them applies exactly to such a situation.

This is bizarre thinking from a man ignorant about the extent of overpopulation and the cost in suffering and death to cats for his behavior in letting his cat breed yet another litter.

His reaction is akin to the reaction of another Albany woman I met outside Countryside once. She had just gotten her cat fixed, and we began chatting about it. She had mentioned her friend's cat was pregnant and "None of us believe in abortion" she'd gone on, with huffy righteousness. There was a stable worker behind us, as we chatted, overhearing.

So, she'd said, she won't get her fixed until later. I went into the same speel I did with this man, tonight, and finally asked her what would become of those kittens, because they'd likely, if given away unfixed, go on to become part of the problem.

"Oh, no they won't," she stated glibly. "When they get a little too old to enjoy, my friend's boyfriend shoots them." I was shocked, to be honest. This was kind of way too blatant of hypocrisy to pass up on a response.

"So," I had said, in my own glib fashion, "to clarify.....you are pro kitten fetus but anti live kitten?"

The stable worker behind us could no longer contain himself and burst out in belly splitting laughter.

The young Albany Christian pro fetuser huffed off, slamming her car door and spinning her tires in the gravel as she roared into history.

The thing is, I live in Albany now. I have to embrace my community, learn to think the way they think, at least good enough to pretend real well I am one of them. I'm thinking about getting a Pro Life T shirt or something only I might spell the slogan wrong, like "Pro Lice", for laughs, and because people would stop me, to tell me "Did you know you the printer got that wrong for you, on your shirt?" I'd look down and then throw a tizzy fit, maybe rip it off, stomp on it, you know, and make friends I'm sure. I got all sorts of plans.

Sometimes, I've taken to approaching such difficult situations as I described above with the "Good cop. Bad cop" approach. Only, there's only one of me. So I have to play both sides of it. This is kind of scarey to people sometimes, but usually results in fixed cats. Oh yeah. Very successful tactic, I'd say.

I've made progress with my lonliness. I'm solving it this way. I'm getting some imaginery friends. Beats real ones. Especially if you can't find any. I'm making them interesting and quite diverse. I'll let you know their names as soon as I decide.

I met a couple of Lebanon women once. One of them had taken the imaginery friend thing a step beyond. She had a life size mannequin she'd even named and that she had many different outfits for, buckled in, in the back seat. "Usually she rides up front," the driver confided but today I brought a real live friend along and decided she'd get the front passenger seat. I stared at the real looking well dressed manequin and thought to myself "I want one of them."