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   The Williams Farm

Life and Death in the Country

10/18/2010

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I wake up in the middle of the night trying to find a place to put all these thoughts.  Gracie, my sweet cat of 15 years, died a violent death last Friday.  A fair amount of death in the country is violent - my dogs eats a chicken, we kill a snake, set out tons of mousetraps, and so on.

While she was old, I didn't feel like it was her time yet.  If she had been a second faster, she'd have made it up the tree, away from the vicious dog going after her. But she didn't.  If it hadn't been that dog, it might have been a coyote another night.  You have to be fastest, in the country, to survive.

It was pretty tough at the after-hours vet's office, giving the go-ahead to put down my kitty.  Of course it was.  Do I want my dear friend, the owner of the perpetrator dog, to feel that same pain and put her dog down?  Do two wrongs make a right?  Do I think an eye for an eye, or a pet for a pet, will bring Gracie back?

No.  But it still wakes me up at night.
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    Linda

    Living in the country and getting to know who I am when it is quiet.

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