Death Of a Kitten

I look down on their territory from our back porch.
They come up to eat, drink, play, sleep, groom, and
sometimes to bring new kittens.

Mama Tail Tip did this. Brought two grays
and a ginger, all still nursing. Very wobbly, but
so very cute and adorable.

Especially Ginger.

Nothing much happier than little kittens at play. And tired
from all their play they are sleeping now. There on our
back porch in the cat bed under the sofa. Me in the
bedroom right beside it where I can hear things
on the porch. Things that shook me awake at 1 a.m.

And I ran and flipped on the light and saw
what it was and got a stick and ran out with
no fear just anger ready to murder but with
only a stick which can still hit hard and did and
off ran that huge raccoon down the steps and
on down into his woods.

Then I looked back there and was hit hard
myself by what I saw.

Little Ginger dead and bloody and part eaten
all alone on the cat bed.

Only hours from a happy playtime. Only hours
ahead of my having to stuff this in a plastic bag to
go out with the unsuspecting trash. Desperate
mother alive in hiding nearby, then desperate off with
her one living kitten out of three.

Silly I guess for an old man to get so attached to kittens on
a porch. Silly I guess to blame raccoons who need to hunt and
eat for a living too. Silly I guess to think a homeless mother cat
would be sleepless the rest of the night just like I was.

Better to be glad I live in a nice safe home with food and fuel and
police nearby if I need them. Better to know there are hospitals if
we need them, and armies to defend, and laws to restrain, and
friends and family to help if called on. And I thought on these things
in that long night until other thoughts began. Began to hit me like I
hit the raccoon.

The animals are wild and murderous, but we human animals are what?

Aren’t we gone wild and murderous in places we barely hear of like
Syria, Somalia, Nigeria, Ethiopia, and many more. The animals kill to eat,
but we kill for what?

Mark Twain thought he knew when he said “Of all the animals, man is
the only one that is cruel.”

Why did Cain kill his brother Abel? Not for food, surely.
Why did Romans stage killing shows for their wild and clapping amusement? 
Why did Nazis invent means to mass kill and burn their Jewish neighbors?
Why did Russia attack Ukraine?
Why did Hamas attack Israel?
Why is Israel slaughtering innocent Palestinians?

Why do countries devote so much of their resources to the task of
killing people instead of helping them?
Why are those who train to do the killing so honored and admired, far
above those who devote their lives to teaching or healing?

Why is the word “inhuman” so often applied to actions that clearly are
human by any understanding of human history?

Why in history do the persecuted so often turn around to become
the worst of persecutors?

Why are there now prominent calls to bring back public executions
in the U.S.? The last one in 1936 in Owensboro, Kentucky brought in
twenty thousand spectators.

So just imagine them with our stadiums and televisions today. Imagine
them on all the social media and podcasts. Don’t dare to say this could not
happen now in our America. It seems that anything can happen now in our
America. Anything.

All these thoughts churning, churning around in my head
for the rest of the night.

Can’t I please just blame the raccoon and forget all this?