Thursday, August 25, 2016
Ire and the Bad Neighbors
22nd October 2014
I have named the kitten Ire for her early temperament thou I must admit she has become rather playful and well behaved in the last few days. She has spent much time on my shoulder even sitting quietly as I filmed a video.
Ire’s testament to the poor nature of my neighbors has become more pronounced as she takes on proper nutrition. The wound on her right front paw nearly cuts her foot clean in two, and I can clearly see the shreds of flesh that make the exit wound between her toes.
She stumbles on the foot every now and then but acts as if this is a bother rather than a true wound. I spoke to the man across the street, and he insists it was an animal attack, but that would have led to infection and how would it have an entry and exit?
That fellow has confided in me that he has a stray cat buried under every rose bush and that he “discouraged” these animals with a pellet gun before finishing them off with a .22 caliber rifle. I guess you could say I live amongst monsters, but I’ve known that since I was in my 20s.
I would remind you that in 1990 my mother died, and Yule, the old man who calls himself my parent, never took it on himself to live with and look after his children. I didn’t think of it at the time but leaving a ten year old in the care of a 14 year old mental patient can’t be legal.
Should it be legal for the neighbors to ignore this condition? Surely they noticed that there wasn’t a car in that driveway five nights a week. Further, how old should I have been before this ceased to be child abuse? Should I look at all that lived around me when I was 14 as guilty of this criminal negligence? I can’t answer these questions, but then I have a kitten to look after.
Keep your eyes open, little sister,
Richard Leland Neal