Delay

Last night I saved a kitten from getting squashed. I found the little fellow right smack in the middle of Maginhawa Street near our apartment. How it got there, and managed to stay alive amid the after-office rush, is a mystery.

But the kitten is too young to survive without the mother. I have played savior to too many kittens in the past to know that this one will eventually die, even with human care. It was already limp with exhaustion and can only make the faintest meow. Its right eye, which has a patch of black hair, is still shut.

I tried tracing the place where the kitten could have possibly crawled from – a grassy spot at the sidewalk – placed it in an ice cream container lined with newspaper, and prayed that the mother would somehow find it.

I named the kitten Rush Hour.

This morning the container was empty, and the nearby road has no signs of *ewww* roadkill.

The rats could have gotten to it. Or maybe the mother did find it. Whether I did save the poor thing, or deprived it a painless death, I will never know – unless I come across a young cat with a black patch in its right eye someday.