Kitty 5

I am participating in NANOWRIMO this year. I will attempt to post my daily ramblings in the hopes that eventually it will become a book which will entertain you as well as myself…

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Kitty Part 5

By Plot Roach
　
　
Kitty snarled and yipped, pulling with all of her might. She had never before worn a collar or been on a leash. The noose of the pole dug into her neck, choking off her air supply. But instead of dropping in place so that the rope would loosen, she fought harder.

A man pulled a rifle from inside the white van, aimed and fired. Kitty fought until the darkness overtook her. Her last thoughts before unconsciousness were of the bright sun above her and of the shadows that felt so cold.

A brief flicker of consciousness found her on a cold meat table, a tube down her throat and a sluggishness in her body which she could not shake.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” a woman said, ruffling her fur. Kitty tried to growl at her, but nothing much more than a sigh escaped her canine lips. She tried to pull herself up onto unsteady legs and fell back down onto the polished surface of the table. Cold, she thought. And it smells weird. She saw another tube attached to her leg and tried to bite at it.

“Oh no, sweetheart.” the woman said, pushing the plunger down on a syringe that fed into the tube. Once again Kitty was plunged into darkness.

The sounds of barking, whines and metal banging upon metal woke her up. Bright florescent lights hummed overhead, making her head hurt even worse.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Oh, you’re up!” Grimy said from across the room. “I was worried about you, especially when they shot you.”

“What was that for?” she asked.

“They probably thought that you were one of those dangerous feral types. So they made you sleep for a while as they checked you out to make sure that you were okay.”

“Of course I’m okay.” Kitty said. “I have been all my life.”

“No, I mean… To make sure you’re not sick or have bones broken.”

Kitty sniffed at the shaved area of her leg where the tube had been inserted, and licked at it to confirm that the wound had been closed. She settled down onto the hard concrete floor, still unsure on her feet. She was filled with a heavy sensation in her body, as if she had just stepped out of a deep pool of water, her fur weighted down by weight of unshed liquid.

Another dog padded up to her cage. He paused long enough to sniff at her through the chain link before addressing her. “You had worms and were dehydrated.” the border collie told her. “The humans gave you medicine and a bag of fluids to remedy the problem.”

“Thank you ….”

“The humans named me Mitch.”

“Thanks Mitch.”

“Anything else that I should know?”

“They don’t know if you are a street feral or just and abused and abandoned dog, like the others that reside here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“If you are not friendly, you cannot be adopted. And if you stay here for longer than two weeks you will be euthanized.”

“Which means?” Kitty asked.

“They put you and a bunch of other dogs in a small room at the end of the hallway.

“ Mitch said. “I don’t know exactly what happens, but when the dogs come out they are dead -and they smell funny.”

“And how do you know all of this?”

“I’ve been here a while.”

“But you haven’t been killed by the humans.”

“I am a pet of one of them, ‘called a service dog’.” Mitch said. “He takes me to places where there are old humans and young ones. He talks about the importance of having your animals “fixed” so that there are no more strays on the street.”

“Fixed?” Grimy asked.

“Balls removed.”

“Like what the cats were talking about.” Kitty said.

“I thought it was just a cat thing.” Grimy said. “I want to keep my balls.”

“That’s not an option here.” Mitch said. “If a family comes to take you to their home, you stay here long enough for the humans to cut them off. And if you’re not lucky enough to find someone to take you home…”

“So let me get this straight: I either lose my balls or my life?” Grimy asked.

Mitch nodded, chewing at a spot on his leg as to avoid eye contact on the rather delicate subject.

“What kind of a sick choice is that?!” Grimy yapped. “I choose neither. Just let me back out and I’ll fend for myself, thank you.”

“Like I said, little guy. You have no other choice.”

“Who are you calling ‘small guy’? I’ll take you right now in a fight, see if I can’t!” Grimy snapped, throwing himself at the wall of his cage.

Mitch raised an eyebrow, wisely saying nothing to the small dog. Instead he turned to Kitty. “I hope that you can pretend to be civil, at least around the humans. It will lead to a bigger cage, time outside with an opportunity to run in the grass and perhaps a chance at a real family.” he said, walking down the row of cages. “I’d hate to see an intelligent being like yourself hauled away to the room at the end of the all.”
Kitty hung her head, letting his words sink in. The thought of another family intrigued her, but it could never replace the one she lost.

She paced the cage three times before curling up into a ball in the farthest corner from the door. The floor was cold and hard, smelling of other dogs long since dead. Their messages of fear and sadness etched into the cell with scents no amount of human chemicals could mask.

Kitty missed her old home beneath the apartment complex and found her mind wandering her old haunts in spirit, even if her body could not follow. She thought about the garbage boys and their overflowing dumpsters, MINE and his chained prison and even the old woman who had dared to reach out and pet her on occasion.

All these thoughts swirled in her mind as she heard the whimpered lamenting of the other inhabitants caged in their communal hell.