The Cat

I was stood at my window today when I saw a cat.

He poked out from a small bush just outside the front door of my block of flats and sat looking out onto the road. He was a beautiful cat - he had a coat of black with a wide face, his features adorned with small patches of white.

I only say he only because he seemed quite a large cat, but I could be mistaken. As he sat I remember thinking what a gorgeous cat, I even tried to meow - and he sat there for a moment, perhaps having heard me, then moved toward the number plate of the middle car in the row of three parked in the gap just beyond the bush by the bush; white number plate and car in silver.

That's when I saw he was limping. I'd seen this beautiful cat appear out from the familiar scene of bushes but as he moved beyond partial cover into my line of view I could see his hind leg was up and he stood on the others. He kept placing it down momentarily and then raising it, so clearly hurt, almost hopping as he approached any speed.

The gap hosting the cars is angled compared to my window and I, and he ducked in between the two final cars just out of sight. I thought poor cat, poor beautiful cat. Then I saw him amble not awkwardly but rather accustomed across the road then proceed up the fence.

I decided on the spot that I should do something. I put on some shoes, opened a can of tuna and went outside with this idea of feeding him. I know it was silly, I knew even at the time but I wanted to do something nice for that beautiful black cat who was living without choice but within pain.

But I'd hesitated at the window. The minute that he'd sat between the cars, I making up my mind to go, that was my chance and inadvertently I'd missed him. I went outside and walked a small way along the fence into a neighbouring courtyard to see if I'd find him but he was gone.

I was sad. That I'd hesitated, waited - that I couldn't have made him feel just a little bit better. It was probably naïve to assume I'd do any good. But it triggered a series of thoughts about compassion.

There are so many times we can't help. So many things that we can't ease for others in life. So many things that happen which we cannot influence.

However small we cannot forget all the things that are within our grasp.

It costs nothing to be compassionate. It costs nothing to do those little things that create smiles and warmth. Most of them take so little of our time and of ourselves; the engaged response and outstretched hands and broad smile.

I'm certainly not perfect; don't always live up to the lofty standards that I'm expounding but I do aspire. But I can think of few goals more important to me than to be a human and be kind. This time it was comparatively easy right.. I like cats, and a cat in pain was a relatively easy internal sell. But that about the other occasions? I resolve to try even in those situations it is less comfortable to do so.

It's a choice each time, on our own good days and our bad. When we don't have to persuade ourselves and times when we do. Because we do choose the words of our responses or how we act each time.

This evening it should have been a small can of tuna.
Still a shame that through inaction I couldn't do more for him.

The beautiful black cat.