Not a Word Strong Enough

One of the brood of neglected cats died Sunday night. I found him Monday morning...in the one place where he found comfort, compassion and care in his short life....under my back porch in the little village I built for them. He hadn't been doing well...but I brought some of the others back from the brink of starvation...so I thought he'd bounce back.

I'm fucking spitting mad at my neighbors. Fucking trash.

Fucking useless city animal agencies. After I found the body...with another of the cats pressed up against the frail corpse...mewling...I called Animal Control in a rage saying that I'd called 6 times already...only to be told "We don't handle cat issues." What the fuck? Animal Control...cats are still animals...right? Why didn't someone tell me this the first six times I called rather than say they'd follow up (which they never did)? And the people at ASPCA Law Enforcement...and the Animal Rescue League Code Enforcement...same deal. The people I spoke with were almost trying to talk me out of filing a complaint. I persisted and each said they'd send an agent to check the cat's body and go over and speak to the owners.

No one showed up. Fucking useless cunts.

So this morning I have to go bury that cat. I would have done so yesterday but the ASPCA officer told me to leave the cat so they could examine it. Well fuck them.