Today is Korean Independance Day, and sadly I have not done much. I have wandered around Meyoung Jong Dong doing a bit of grocery shopping and reading and hanging out.
But one of the kittens is dead.
I have seen several cats in the "ghetto" here. A couple of larger older cats and maybe two younger kittens that are maybe sixteen weeks old. The first one I saw is a black and white kitten, another orange, black, and white kitten, an orange stripey older cat, and a black and white older cat that I only see at night, dodging the shadows. I have left several half full cans of tuna outside with my recycling, hoping this will help nourish them a bit (I got ten cans of tuna and four cans of spam in a gift package from Jenny and Eddie for Chusok. Very odd. I also got several gifts from some of my students: a pair of earrings, a strange little doll, a bottle of champagne, several hundred won, and an American quarter).
I saw the orange, black, and white kitten on a trash pile around the corner from my apartment just a few minutes ago.
It is silly the way this sort of thing affects me. Kittens symbolize something so vulnerable and innocent for me. They are simply curious and affectionate, maybe moody at times.
I have a permanent image in my mind of my cat Tiva when I found him dead.
This makes me sad to remember Molly and Tiva. I know that they are just animals, and that people mean so much more to me, but somehow, the quick glimpse of the kitten in the trash before I looked away, put tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.
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I am grateful for your honesty, Heath. I love that in this cynical world, with so much violence, you take the time to morn an orphaned kitten. I think that part of you is the purest reflection of God's heart; that passage about how he knows when a sparrow falls, that's you... I got that sick in the pit of your stomach feeling when I ran over a squirrel that was already dead on 35E yesterday.
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