I was free at one time, I scrounged the streets for my meals, sometimes going hungry for days on end.
Long before I heard the word, my life..... in short.... was utter and complete Hell.
I had never had an owner; I was born underneath a city highway in a tunnel. My mother died during birth. I never met my father.
As a child, I had an older sister named Sorrel. She was a gray tabby. She was quite intelligent.... with the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen. She used to tell me stories.... stories she had heard of a cat living among humans. I thought the idea was awful. A cat should live in the wild, fur blowing in the wind, paws touching the dew laden grass.
Those kinds of stories used to make me sad, Sorrel would always comfort me, telling me it was alright.
But, one night, I had heard gunshots. I told Sorrel to run and hide, but she refused, wanting to protect me.
I had to watch her die.
She was shot in the head. Dead on the spot.
From then on, I was alone.
And here I am now, being taken from my only home.
I remember being roughly grabbed by the scruff, my fur coat grimy and wet from running. I remember the scorn I was given and the jeers. Then, I was thrown in a metal cage, my freedom taken from me.
The stench of the vehicle was nauseating.
All I smelled was fear and death.
CATS HAD DIED IN THIS PLACE. FRIGHTENED TO DEATH.
I tried to find a word for this.... only one popped into my head.
OPPRESSION.
Now here I was, being sent away to a place where I knew I'd die. Never to see the warm sun or feel the dew laden grass.