This fragile kitty lives behind my house and is usually afraid of humans. He or she lives on the periphery, surviving because suckers like me and my neighbors feed it.
The cat is better off than I am, or at least that is what I sometimes think.
Freud said that our sentience, that thing that elevates us from other animals, is the same thing that makes us miserable. What then do I say about this sad cat- apparently not sentient, but afraid nevertheless. Is fear any less terrifying because it is primal?
It has been about four months that I have been living with constant fear. It crested over the past three days, though I am relieved to report I harmed no one, not even myself. Fear makes one dangerous, and being bipolar can make you afraid of a creature as harmless as this bedraggled feline.
But I finally went outside (well to the safety of a nearby alley, anyway). It had been so long since I breathed fresh air, and the shy cat's willingness to take what I offered it reminded me that I may be a fucked up mess with increasing agoraphobia, and pallor, but at least this stripy creature got a decent meal.
And put a smile upon my exhausted face.