I nearly witnessed a feline death/suicide last night.
I was walking down Broadway, and something told me, “Don’t be afraid of looking like a tourist - look up now!” There was a cat on the ledge of an open window many stories above me. It was fluffy and leaning as far out as humanly, no feline-ly, possible without falling to its death.
Was it curiosity, which we are told “[kills] the cat”? (I counter that no, curiosity gives the cat something to die for. We all need that). Or was the cat feeling depressed and hopeless? Had its owner switched to the off-brand cat food it hates, one that the owner knows very well gives the cat explosive diarrhea? Was the cat abused at home with no easy way to become a stray? Did the cat finally realize that after being pampered and given everything for five years, it had never truly lived?
What a crazy situation. Thank God for RA training. I channeled, “It’s not your fault. You have so much to live for. I know of many resources to help you, none of which I can currently recall.” If a cat can predict an earthquake, I hope it can at least be telepathic.
The cat fluffed out and started to teeter over the edge. It lost balance on its back legs. There was no way I was ever going to catch a cat plummeting to its death from stories above me. Imagine how scratched up I’d be. What would I do with the cat once I saved it? Most importantly, I’m one of the most physically uncoordinated people you’ll ever meet.
The cat and I locked eyes. It gazed at me in fear, curiosity, and what I would like to consider awe, before hopping off the ledge…
…into its apartment.
I went on my way.
