Sunday, September 20, 2009

Meine Katze; Wynter.

If any of you have read my first post, you'll have noticed me mention my cat, Wynter. I'll give you a bit of her history here.

Ever since I've known her until recently, my friend Leah (on the right) had a black cat named Midnight. (Leah went camping and Midnight was left outside, we're guessing Midnight figured they weren't coming back so she found someone else to take care of her.) Midnight had quite a few litters while living with Leah. One of the litters were around when I was spending some days at Leahs... and since cats are my favorite animal (although I wouldn't mind just having a zoo) I got hooked on the pure white one. Wynter!

As she grew, Wynter become as attached to me as I did to her. I went to Leahs as often as possible, hoping Wynter would someday come home with me. For some reason, dad agreed I could finally get a cat. (Everytime I asked before he would say no.) Right around my birthday 2007, Wynter was old enough for me to trap her in a cat carrier and listen sadly as she meowed frantically the whole four minutes home. Then she had full rein of.. my room. I didn't want my younger brothers to terrorize her at least until she was used to the house. She stayed in my room for about a week and a half until my stepmother, Stina, took pity on her and let her out of my room while I was in school.

I was not happy about this. I knew my younger brothers may or may not take kindly to a new pet. They, of course, were ecstatic when Stina got two Scottish Folds, even if they were shy and wouldn't let anyone near them. However, Vincent (age 6 at the time) got the idea that Wynter was a "bad cat" and took it upon himself to abuse her. He tought Oliver (age 4) to yank Wynter by the tail off the counter. During the summer they would spray her with the hose.

Wynter is no longer the friendly, loving cat that she was. She stays outside more often than I'd like. She does like attention, especially from me. She lets me and my dad hold her. She plays with us. Then she dissapears for a couple days. Wynter sleeps with my parents (she LOVES their comforter) and sometimes she'll cuddle up with me too. Then she's just gone. Everyday that I don't see her, I'm praying that she isn't out there, finding other people to take care of her, just like her mother.

Wynter is almost 2 years old now. Her life isn't horrible, but I wish I could have given her more. I actually wish that she had been born later, when I didn't live with these monsters that I must call my brothers. There is no excuse to abuse a cat. Nothing will justify what they've done to her, and I feel guilty for ever taking her in the first place. Now, I can't just let go of her. In that irratating human way, I've become attached to her. She's my best friend.

When you abuse a kitten, or a puppy, it affects their entire life. They learn to be afraid. They run away. They become defensive, and then no one wants them. They hide. You have ruined a perfectly harmless and wonderful animal, and you deserve to be treated the same way.

Remember to always treat others the way you want to be treated. You hit someone, someone needs to come hit you harder.

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