On July 13th, 2010, I was shot by a sadistic neighbor wielding a BB gun.
Since then, I have hardly taken a step out the back door. Lounging in sunbeams cast upon the hardwood floor and window watching make up the extent of my current outdoor experiences.
Sometimes my adopted mommy shoves me into a full body jacket connected to a rope and walks with me in the backyard in hopes of quelling my desire to romp in the grasses, but stiffly walking in such a contraption does not do the trick. I’ve been acceptant of living indoors and have come to appreciate such pleasures as man-made beds, a porcelain food dish, and pooping in the human bathroom.
But now that five frisky formerly feral friendly felines have taken residence in the backyard, I’ve grown very dissatisfied with my indoor prison.
Now, this may seem like another old complaining post- it is not.
The light has come back into my life.
I’ve taken up the habit of edging towards the door in an attempt to wedge past my human companions and into the yard to revisit my old homeland. Usually, I am pushed away and chided, “Wes, you can’t go outside! “
After weeks of desperation, my adopted grandfather has at last taken pity upon my mewing soul and opened up the back door.
Kittens who have spent their entire lives outdoors now inhabit the yards that used to be my territory. They clearly feel superior; their little whiskers twitch with disdain as I creep at a snail-like pace through the yard. Little do these young men and (woman) know of my bird-butchering, tree-climbing past.
I sniff the air tentatively and eye the young cats scuffling in the grasses, prompting memories of long nights spent yowling and beating up the toms of the neighborhood.
Slowly, with careful steps and constant glances at my surroundings, I make my way towards a patch of grass that was always my favorite treat- ahhh….something has been missing from my diet for the past 2 years and it is certainly not meat by products.
I dare not step any farther than my own backyard for fear of getting another hole in my leg, but these few supervised visits to the outdoors have meant the world for my peace of mind.