Parker In The Park

          In the summer, I took my children to the park.  It was hours of play, topped off with a picnic lunch.  Those many years back were fun.  The years went by and the children grew up.  The three girls moved away, but the son remained.  He was too old to spend a day with me playing at the park.  But as the years had changed things, the park itself had changed too.  Our favorite park had its play area for small children with newer updated equipment.  It had its ball fields with fences.  It had its tennis courts.  But new to the area was a disc golf course put in for adults.  Through the woods the baskets for the game were displayed.  And now, I would sometimes go with my son to play a game of disc golf.  But mostly; he went with friends.
          It seems like there are stray cats everywhere. We saw one even there.  She was wild no doubt; but yet came close enough begging for food.  We found ourselves taking some cat food with us on our trips to the park.  The cat had the whole woods to hunt.  It was obvious it knew how to find food.  But the added treats seemed welcome.  And then one day as we were leaving, a car came driving up fast.  A male passenger got out of the car and headed for the cat.  He opened a can of food and the cat began eating immediately.  I took the opportunity to walk over and start a conversation with him.
          “I see you’re feeding the cat,” I said. “We’ve been feeding it too.  I feed many strays already.”
          He seemed kind of short with me.  I could tell he did not want to talk to me.
          He came back with a response, “If you’re feeding many cats, you need to call someone and get them picked up.  This is the golfers’ cat.  We have been feeding her for two years.”  He continued.  “Do you see her left ear?  It is clipped.  We had Baby fixed so she would not have any kittens.  We’re taking care of her.  We don’t need you feeding her.”
          I had not seen that cat in the two years until then.  But at the disc golf course again, I found another gentlemen with whom I brought up the cat in conversation.
          “Her name is Baby and we have been feeding her for four years.”
          “Four years,” I asked, “I’m confused!  That man I talked to the other day said two years.”
          “Don’t listen to him.  He doesn’t like any of us taking care of the cat, but him.”  He laughed, “Her name is really Baby and she follows the golfers around as they play.  She doesn’t really belong to anybody. A cat is a very independent animal.  So whatever you do, do not try to pick her up.  She’ll tear you apart.”
          They couldn’t pick her up.  She was probably trapped some way to get spayed.  I had played golf myself on that course making me a golfer.

Since I am part owner of a cat in the park, I gave her the last name Parker.  It made it easier for me to talk about her.  People, in many cases, don't stay regular on what they do.  A neighbor next door puts out food on her front porch now and then.  She never stays regular with it.  A cat becomes dependent on the food.  So, how can anyone just stop the feeding when they start?  I realize a day of feeding by even the golfers may be missed.  I take cat food with me when going to the park.  I carry food in case I see a stray anywhere.  The one golfer said she was the golfers' cat.  Because these golfers never saw me on the course before does not mean I haven't played my game when they weren't there.  As a golfer, I do see Baby Parker as mine too.

An Act of Compassion

          Somehow, someway, indoor cat Shadow Anne got outside. Perhaps a door left slightly open as someone came in or went outside.  Cats are known for squeezing in small spaces.  Or maybe, she merely slipped by without notice.   Regardless, she got out.  Her absence was not known until the next morning as she sat at the front door wanting inside.   It was noticed immediately that there was something different about her as she tried to enter the house.  Shadow was dragging one back leg.  Immediately my daughter screamed for her husband. "There’s something wrong with Shadow!”

It didn’t take a veterinarian to tell them she had a broken leg.  But it was a mystery as how?  There appeared to be no injury marks anywhere else.  Perhaps the vet could give an answer.  As soon as her regular vet’s office was open, Shadow was taken for medical attention.  But what followed was one vet office visit after another.

            In 2009, my daughter and her husband were working at the same company.  Their jobs were moved to another state.  What came next was unemployment followed by temp jobs.  Deeper and deeper they were getting into debt as not enough money to pay bills from the life style they had become accustomed. It never fails that life always manages to throw you that unexpected bill.  With Shadow, her vet wanted over two thousand dollars to operate on the broken leg.  And during that visit, he described the broken leg as maybe she got tangled up in something.

            My daughter was told by many if she could not afford the payment to have the animal put to sleep. She was overwhelmed with tears and couldn’t accept that.  With each trip to a vet’s office, her tears became heavier.  Finally one vet showed his Act of Compassion by saying, “I have to charge something.  I have expenses of my own.”  He paused and added, “I will do the surgery.”  He quoted her a price with a four hundred dollar down payment and the rest to come later.  She managed to come up with the upfront money by borrowing.  The surgery turned out to cost one half less than all others were going to charge.

            Today, Shadow walks with a limp.  But she is able to use that leg.   She’s got many more years of love to give and to receive.  My daughter and her husband could not afford that large fee.  But I guess they would have paid it somehow if that one veterinarian had not showed an Act of Compassion.  Just how far will someone go for that pet they love?  I think there are a lot of us out there who would say, “Expense is no object.  If we could not really afford it, we would probably have cried all the way to one vet’s office after another also.  After all, we do love our pets.”

Who Killed Freddie Mouse?

            His stiff, little, grey body lay in the middle of the yard.  The little bit of hair around his face, around his chin, and the back of his ears was still intact.  His tiny eyes, hidden in his fur, were wide open.  With an average weight of no more than 10-25 grams, Freddie could hardly be considered an appetizing meal.  This was proven today, as his body lay upon the ground uneaten.  Mice are normally well able to detect coming predators by their whiskers.  Freddie’s little claws were clutched as if he had put up a struggle.

            One by one, the other mice left the safety of their own homes to take a peek at Freddie.  Each one was cautious from fear of becoming the victim of the same predator.  As each of them returned and grouped together, they asked, “Who killed Freddie Mouse?”

            No one knew.

            “He was a solitary creature,” said James.  “I sometimes shared the same house as he did.  I knew better than to overlap his territory though.  I was always the one who had to give way to him.”

            “He was likable, though,” said Ralph.  “And he was always very careful.”

            “No doubt about that,” affirmed Irene.  “He was careful.”

            “We all knew that about him,” said Mary impatiently.  “But he must have finally slipped up on his safety skills.  He’s been murdered!”

            “That just goes to show you that if it happened to Freddie, it can happen to the rest of us,” cried Albert.

            “There’s no need to panic,” said James.  “Things are going to be different with Freddie gone.  We owe him and ourselves to find out who murdered him.”

            “Do you really think we can find out who killed him?”  Asked a curious Spencer.

            “Yes, and we can’t let his murder go unsolved.  I suggest that each of us travel one by one to the yard and view the body and the surroundings.  Take your time and find the clues that will tell us who did it.  We will meet in Freddie’s house and compare our findings.  There will be evidence.  Don’t we always leave a little bit behind of the stored food we eat?  Sometimes we do that so we can go back and finish later.  Perhaps that is what Freddie’s killer is doing, so be careful.  We don’t want any one of us added to his menu.”

            “But we’ve already seen his body,” Mary grumbled.  “Why should we go again?”

            “We all must go again,” insisted James.  “The first time up, you weren’t looking for clues.  This time it is different.”

            Each mouse finally nodded in agreement.  Then James asked, “So, who is going first?”

            “I’ll go first,” said Albert.  “I want to get it over with.  I’m getting hungry and I want to get back to work as soon as possible.”

            James laughed, “With you, it’s always about work and sleep.  You keep an average of 12.5 hours sleeping and the rest working.  It won’t hurt you to break routine sometimes.”

            Albert ignored him and hurried out of the house as fast as his little legs would carry him.  He was not about to become the predator’s next meal.  He’d never catch him.  He stayed in the yard just long enough to look everything over.  Yes, he had a theory about who murdered Freddie forming in his mind already.

            Mary went next and dashed out as quickly as Albert had.  She didn’t stay in the yard very long either.  Then, one by one went James, Spencer, Irene, and Ralph.

            Albert spoke first when they congregated in Freddie’s house.  “It wasn’t a dog because there were no teeth marks.”

            “I noticed that too,” said Mary.  “But I think that if we rule out a dog, then we should rule out the owl as well.  An owl would swoop down and carry its prey away.”

            “If you’re going to rule out the owl, then the hawk must also be ruled out,” said James.  “You may as well rule out all bird species based on the swooping off with their prey theory.”

            Everyone nodded.

            “I think we can rule out a fox or a raccoon,” said Irene.  “This yard is set pretty far in the city and the fenced-in yard manages to keep them away.  There are just too many people hanging around, too.”

            “What about the owner of the property?”  Spencer asked.  “If there’s anyone who’d like to see Freddie gone, it is the owner.  Each year, Freddie goes in his house causing damage to his walls and breaking into his stored food.”

            “No.  I think we can all agree that it wasn’t the owner,” said Ralph.  “He would have disposed of the body.  And if he was the one who got Freddie, then he would’ve gotten more of us, too.  I think that you all are just trying to eliminate suspects because you didn’t really look for the evidence.”

            Mary snorted.  “And I suppose that you have it figured out?”

            “In fact, I think I do,” replied a normally modest Ralph.  “I was the last to go up, but I stayed longer than any of you.  Freddie’s’ body was lying right in the sunshine.  Yes, he hadn’t been devoured by anyone.  Right on the hair of his body was the evidence that all of you missed.”

            “What was it?” asked James.

            “His hair was clumped together as if he had been wet.  You may have vaguely noticed the wetness and assumed it was from the dew.  But, it was only wet in streaks.  I say that the culprit was a cat.”

            “It was a cat?”  The other mice responded in unison.

            “Yes.  What animal loves to play with its prey before eating it?” asked Ralph.  “The cat must have known Freddie was a mouse, and so he toyed with him.  When Freddie stopped fighting back, the cat surely grew bored and left him.”

            The owner has been feeding a lot of stray cats lately,” said Spencer.  “More and more of them show up in the yard every day.  The owner apparently feeds them well, and that supports Ralph’s theory.  A well-fed cat would enjoy the sport of the hunt, but not eat its prey.”

            “Will he come back to finish what he started?” asked Albert.

            “It’s possible.  If he doesn’t, then someone else will,” said James sadly.  “But Freddie’s death was not in vain and should be considered a valuable lesson for the rest of us.  Do your job in your house.  If you should have to go where predators wait, be careful of your surroundings.  This has taught us to always be cautious.  With any job, you must remember that safety comes first.”

            “I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Mary.  “But Freddie’s murder taught me one very valuable lesson.  I’m going to move to a house where there is NO CAT!”

            In agreement, they all disbanded!