beauty and struggle

My cat killed a bird this morning. I was fixing to pop the top on a little can of ever so delicious beef feast in beef flavored gravy when, I looked out the window and saw him playing with something brown and bouncy. I stepped outside to investigate. He rapidly lost interest, apparently his toy had suddenly stopped moving. I was curious. My bet was on it being a chipmunk, as they're quite plentiful and are paws-down the most tasty game to be found in this area. I was surprised to find, it was a small brown bird.

I knew this cat desired our feathered friends, more so than our other cats do. Many times I've seen him sitting inside on the bathroom window sill pitifully trembling and licking his lips over noisy flocks outside. I just never really thought he could take one down. He is, you see, the boy who has been found more than once munching on others kills, yes, sad but true, even road-killed squirrels were not above him in his younger days. Therefore a part of me was rather proud of him. After all, birds fly, they don't make it easy! I was pleased to see his skill set broadened.

Another part of me though was torn, heartbroken. It is a familiar pain. I've had outdoor cats all my life and so have seen my share of dead and dying small critters (many of them killed in my honor or brought to bed live in the middle of the night). I have friends who strongly believe that all cats should live indoors, who say that they are evil sadistic creatures depleting songbird population etc and that I am a bad pet owner (regardless of the fact that my animals are spayed, neutered, vaccinated and well fed!). The thing is I just know that I would never ever want to live indoors all the time. And so I have never been able to impose such limits on my animals. Believe me, I can be a real control freak about some issues, but this is one no-win situation which I have never tried to fight. A cat's predatory self is natural and thus I believe it is simply something we have to accept and respect. Whether we like it or identify with it, matters not.

Now I've seen plenty of dead birds but this one was still breathing, gasping actually, its little beak opening and closing rhythmically, and it hurt to watch. It's always hard knowing there is nothing one can to do to help or fix a sad situation. I wanted to pet it. The soft downy feathers were super tempting. But I knew that touch was likely the last thing the poor creature needed or wanted. I cupped my hands round in the grass.

All I could do was sit and witness.
"I witness your beauty; and, your struggle."
It was not unlike watching my older cat pass away last winter.
"I love you. You are not alone."

Waiting for last breaths, I caught myself wanting to hurry them on,
in order to selfishly relieve my own pain and disturbing emotions.
They struggled
I struggled
"Stay
centered
here in the now of this moment
You can do it"
And then,
gone.

I believe it would have been cowardly of me to turn away from those last moments. I know I brought no true comfort or pain relief but I wanted to offer my love, to share a tiny bit energy, to send them on their way into the unknown.

Some would say my actions and beliefs in these such matters are simply a psychological projection of my own need and loneliness. And I can not deny the logic in such a position. However I prefer to think that these little personal connections are the big moments that matter most. It is what we are meant to do, to live, to be, to be simply, and to witness one another. None can ever truly help another. Each has their own life to live and to lose, all on their own. The best we can do is be present, bear witness respecting the expression of the divine in each individual, including our self.