Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Few things make me angry

Few things make me angry. I made a decision a long time ago that most things aren't worth getting all bent out of shape. My life has been much less stressful ever since. However, today, someone did something that made me very angry. This unnamed person - so unnamed because I don't know who it was, not because I wouldn't reveal their name here - likely hit a cat in our new neighborhood with a car. Now, it isn't our cat, and I don't really even like cats. But this person for some reason decided that this cat (without a collar) was ours, and left the dying cat on my front porch.

What the hell, right? What kind of idiot would do that? What if that was a family cat, and I had a small child, who woke up to get ready for school or watch his morning cartoons and found our barely alive cat on the front porch? Really... what the hell was this person thinking?

But that wasn't even the part that made me seriously angry. The part that made me really angry was having my fiance discover this cat, still breathing, and having to take it to the nearby vet, and then being told that the cat had died. This made her cry, and rightfully so. I mean, nobody, not even a cat, should have to die being dumped on a stranger's doorstep. The vet didn't even have time to put the cat to sleep humanely, it likely suffered on our doorstep all night, just because some asshole wouldn't take responsibility for their actions. Furthermore, this same asshole made my future wife cry. This person better hope I never find out who they are. There is a reason why I decided that it wasn't worth getting angry over things that don't matter.

You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Nobody makes Jarrah sad. NOBODY. I am a problem solver. When I encounter something like this, I want to fix it. As I don't know who left the cat on our doorstep, and the cat has already passed, so I can't fix it in any way. This makes me even angrier. So... if you happen to be reading this, and you killed a cat in my neighboorhood, go volunteer at the humane society or PAWS for a month to at least make partial amends for making Jarrah sad. The alternative is you come to my front door, and Jarrah kicks you in the junk (assuming you're a guy), and I kick you in the stomach. Because that's how this feels.

Sure, it wouldn't really help anything, but I'd probably feel better afterward. Uncaring bastard.