He Is There...He Is Always There

  For the past ten years (or maybe more), there has a been a resident of the Bayou that has eluded all offers of friendship.  An old, feral cat has been here without ever accepting anything more than an occasional supper and a dry place to sleep.  He avoids eye contact and voices scare him.  I have tried and will continue to try to befriend him.  He is there.  He is always there...just beyond reach...just beyond help.

  This morning as I came off the the pier, I saw him sitting about forty feet from me.  He peered at me through the darkness but scurried off when I spoke to him.  It breaks my heart to see the scraggly animal knowing that winter is not far off.  The best I can do is to continue to offer food and make a small entrance into the greenhouse.  There, at least, he will have some warmth during the cold nights to come.  

  This cat is another of what I call "throwaway pets".  I am not sure how people can sleep at night knowing they abandon poor animals.  This poor fellow has had to endure countless horrors as he tries to survive.  He has braved the coyotes and bobcats.  He has fought to outlast hurricanes and winter storms.  He has struggled to find food and surely is infested with all sorts of parasites.  It simply breaks my heart.  If he only knew I care.  If he only knew he could trust me to be kind and not hurt him like his past family.  Instead, he is just there.