18/11/2024
Lees asb tot die einde....
Dear Humans,
I am a feral cat. You’ve seen me before—maybe a flash of fur disappearing into the bushes, my golden eyes glowing from the shadows. I’m the one you call wild, stray, or unwanted. But I want you to know my story, the life I lead, and the world I call home.
My days begin before the sun rises. I wake to the cold ground beneath me, my belly growling. Hunger is a constant companion. I scavenge through garbage, hunt small prey, or wait for a kind soul to leave out food. Some days, I eat. Others, I don't.
Every sound is a threat, every shadow a possible danger. Cars roar past me; humans approach too quickly, and I must dart away. I’ve learned not to trust easily—many who mean well don’t realize how terrifying their kindness can seem to someone like me.
I have no home, just places to hide. The summer sun scorches my skin; the winter chill bites at my bones. When I’m sick, injured, or tired, I have no one to comfort me. Survival is my only thought.
Despite it all, I’m not so different from your own cats. I long for safety, warmth, and a full belly. I purr when I’m happy, love my kittens fiercely, and dream of days when the world isn’t so harsh.
I understand if you don’t want me to live inside your home. That’s okay—freedom is in my blood. But I hope you can see me as more than a nuisance. If you spay or neuter me, I won’t bring more kittens into this hard life. If you leave food or water, you’ve given me a moment’s peace.
And if you trap me gently to care for my wounds or protect me from danger, I might one day trust again.
I am not a monster, though I know I may look rough to you. My fur might be scruffy, my eyes wary, and my body thin, but I feel just as deeply as the cats you cradle in your arms. I am not aggressive because I want to be—it’s because I have to be. The world has taught me that survival means staying sharp, always on guard.
I am not unlovable, though it may seem that way. I have my own way of showing affection, even if it’s from a distance. When you offer me food or kindness, I might not come close, but I’ll remember your voice, your scent, your actions.
I am not hopeless, even when the world feels overwhelming. Each day I make it through is proof of my resilience. Every kind gesture from you reminds me that there’s still good in this world, even for someone like me.
And I am not alone. There are many others like me, living in the shadows, hiding under porches or in abandoned buildings. Some are young and still learning the ways of survival. Others are old, their bodies weary from years of hardship. We are all just trying to make it through.
But you have the power to change things. A little patience, a little understanding, and a little help can turn my life around—or at least make it less of a struggle. You might not be able to save us all, but even one act of kindness can mean the difference between life and death for a feral cat like me.
Thank you for listening,
The Feral Cat You Once Passed By