I admired him from a distance, his monochrome fur a stark contrast to the grey afternoon sky – despite it being the first day of August. He padded gently through the streets, easing his weight on to his paws ever so elegantly and looking back every so often, a feline trait passed down from his forefathers, whom he shared little with in terms of size except his sharp blood curdling eye’s.
We reached the end of the street simultaneously, but our destinations made a perfect parallel. He leaped up towards the tree, having faith in his paws to save him from slipping and God to ease his flight. In that moment our natures couldn’t have been more different, not because of our species and skins – No. But what made us different was the fact that his aim right then was to take a life and mine was to save it.
I could have walked away and let nature take its course, but how would the mother bird feel when she arrived home to see that her eggs had been snatched before they had a chance to hatch. I shouted at this majestic creature to get down and not take another step forward. He examined me and the nest (his supposed lunch).
I could not bare the fact that these babies would be clawed to death at the hands of a heathen who’s intention was pure malice. I realised seconds later that the young Tom was merely finding its dinner, i hadn’t stopped a hunter from getting to its prey, but rather a child from drinking it’s milk. I was content that the eggs were safe yet sad that the cat was left hungry.
I failed this hour in the urban jungle, I wasn’t a hero nor a villain. Between the endless crevice of life and death – Where I Stand In Life – [4:21 PM] 1/08/2015