A Shocking Tale – Do not read if you’re a cat lover
The week before I moved, was a very sad week for me. I wasn’t leaving my friends, I wasn’t leaving my boyfriend, and I wasn’t leaving my job. But I was told that I was going to have to say goodbye to one very special being that was a big part of my life for the past year: my cat.
I had Coco Chanel for about seven months, and got her when she was barely able to leave her mom. She was an adorable white and grey kitten, full of personality and sometimes mischief (a problem sometimes with roommates). But despite the fact that she once chewed the internet cord, and started a new hobby of peeing on my bed, she was my little pride and joy, my first pet since I’ve lived on my own (well, besides my two fish Gilroy and Finnigan).
Soon the school year and my lease were both ending, meaning I had to figure out my life and living situation. I decided to stay the summer in the same town and work until I moved to Toronto. And at the most perfect timing, a friend of mine asked if I’d like to sublet his room for the summer while I figured things out. Everything worked out well: the rent was cheap, the location was ideal, and his roommates coincidentally went to my high school. There was only one problem: the cat had to go.
Upon moving in, I tried to bargain with my roomies but they weren’t budging. They did not want to break their lease which stated no pets and I didn’t want to be kicked out to the curb. They gracefully let me have one week to find a home for her. I placed an ad on a classifieds website and asked all my friends if they wanted to adopt my cat. About five days went by, and I was still having no luck. Even my parents said they didn’t want another cat.
Just when I thought that my little Coco would have to go to an adoption agency and be stuck in a cage for God knows how long, a friend of mine came to the rescue. He came over to visit the cat and said he would take her until I found a proper home. I thanked him repeatedly for not putting me in the position of placing Coco with a bunch of orange-haired orphan kitties.
A few days later, I received a phone call from a little girl asking if she could come see my cat. I phoned Daryl and told him the good news… but to my surprise, he told me that he grew attached to Coco and that he’d keep her. I told the cute little girl that unfortunately, Coco already found a home.
Weeks later, I asked Daryl how Coco was doing. His response: “Oh, we had to get rid of her.”
I was bit shocked and upset that Daryl hadn’t gotten my permission to find Coco a new home, but I told myself that she was no longer mine, and that it was Daryl’s choice to do what he wanted with her. “Well where did she go?” I asked.
“Oh, I dunno,” Daryl said nonchalantly. “My dad knows a lot of old people.”
And so, for the past six months, I have believed that my little kitten was keeping a lonely elderly company, playing with balls of yarn, and becoming fat on treats. She was probably getting lots of cuddles and play time with the grandchildren. Both my cat, and some eighty year old, were getting a lot of love out of each other. Little did I know, that the story was much different.
I found out the tragic news of the welfare of my cat, before an outing with a group of my girlfriends, called “the twelve bars of Christmas.” Everyone was sitting around the table, decked out in red and white, eating delicious appetizers and drinking lots of wine. The conversation had turned slightly morbid, when a friend was sharing a story about someone she knew who put a cat in a microwave. I was appalled, and just after I finished questioning how anybody could do something so disgusting to a pet, I noticed something strange out of my peripheral. A friend to my right was having a non-verbal conversation with a friend in front of me. One that was composed of weary glances and a big head shake ‘no’. I turned to my friend Kyla.
“What the hell is that about?” And right away it hit me. They knew something about Coco. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing,” replied Kyla. “It’s really nothing. Trust me, I don’t think right now is a good time.”
After much pleading with her, Kyla finally pulled me aside to the kitchen were she let me know the horrifying news: Daryl had shot my cat.
“Shot??” I asked. “Are you f*cking kidding me? How does one go about shooting a cat?”
After about a half an hour, I calmed down. But this guy Daryl, whom I called a friend, and whom I still will be nice around, will never be looked at quite the same. To think that Coco could be playing with a seven year old, or keeping a seventy-eight year old company. Instead, she became a victim of disgusting hunting games and disgusting pleasure. As a final note, I would just like to say that most serial killers start out by killing animals… think about it.
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2 Comments to A Shocking Tale – Do not read if you’re a cat lover
that is the most disgusting thing i have ever heard!!! it makes me sad!! i helped name Coco Chanel. i totally agree with the last sentence!!!
niki
July 17, 2010
thats so messed up! i’ve had my kitty since she was 6 weeks, and shes 12 years old now. and shes my everything! like a child. i couldnt imagine someone doing something like that to an innocent kitty.
i hope that asshole gets whats coming to him.
January 23, 2009