05/18/2025
Consider the sad existence of unaltered cats. Females are physically exhausted by continuous pregnancies and nursing, each litter progressively weakening them. Males, slaves to hormones they cannot comprehend, are compelled to fight and chase, often leading them into dangerous traffic where they are fatally struck. The noise from their breeding and altercations acts as an undeniable lure for predators, making them easy targets for coyotes. Diseases like FIV (Feline Immunodeficiency Virus) "cat AIDS," are rampant, spread through the very acts of breeding and the deep, painful bites inflicted during their territorial disputes. Most heartbreakingly, the majority of their kittens will never be seen, perishing from illness, harsh environmental conditions (be it scorching heat or freezing cold), infection, or predation, often before they can even crawl from their mothers' nests. Given these harsh realities, it is contradictory to claim deep affection for the cats you feed if, in the same breath, you refuse the opportunity to get them spayed or neutered. We support colony feeders, we love them, but the ones who not only neglect to TNR themselves but worse, refuse to let anyone else TNR either, we can not help but see their love as harmful and dysfunctional; to be indifferent to the suffering, we expect from those who take no notice of our community cats, but when it comes from those who fill the bowls and give them names, that is its own kind of disfunction.
'Beyond the Bowl, The Unseen Toll'
Her slender frame, a constant toll,
By nature's urgent, deep demand.
Each swelling belly, seizing soul,
A weary life across the land.
The restless male, a driven ghost,
By hormones he can't comprehend.
Lost on the streets, his vital post,
A brutal chase, a violent end.
In mating cries and savage fights,
A signal sent on midnight air.
The coyote hears, in shadowed nights,
And silence falls on stark despair.
Disease, a silent, creeping stain,
From bitter bite to strained embrace.
FIV's slow, agonizing pain,
Leaving its devastating trace.
And kittens, born to fragile plight,
A hidden toll, beneath the leaves.
Most vanish in the fading light,
Before the world, their smallness grieves.
By frost or fever, or sun's harsh glare,
By hunger's gnaw, or predator's eye.
So do not tell me that you care,
If you can end the cycle but will not try.
To claim fondness, while a trappers help you decline,
reveals a selfish need to feed, not love's design.
We want them fed, on this, we can all agree
But to prevent their sterilization is outright cruelty.