I have always been a cat person. And we have always gotten our cats in one way: they were strays or abandoned, and a friend (or sometimes a friend of a friend) told us first instead of going to the pound. Some of these cats were more people shy than others, but all of them made great pets in the end.
When I'm not writing, I work at a department store. Today they had me working in the pets department, so I smelled like cat food. When I walked from my car, two cats followed me to the porch. They were both very people shy, but I was able to talk to one of them until it came over. I recognized it as the black one that's been sleeping under my car for the past week or so.
Both of them were rail thin.
I felt really bad that I smelled like food and wasn't giving them any, so I told my mom. We put out some food -- tuna, milk, and water. While they ate, my sister and I talked to and petted them and my mother and brother went out to buy cat food.
They are so skinny it breaks my heart, and the black one flinched every time I petted it. The white one looks like someone marked it with spray paint and broke its tail. They have the sweetest faces and can't be more than a year old, and yet both of them flinch at every noise, and pace, making sure they know where everyone is at all times. The fluffy one's haunches are actually concave...
Let me just say that there is a special place in hell for people who abuse animals.
There is no excuse.
Thanks for my new cats, assholes. We'll give them a loving home.