Dear Sunny:

Dear Sunny,

As long as I have trapped, I have formed a sort of formal attachment to the cats with whom I work. I consider them beloved coworkers, or favored clients, if you will. That being said, yesterday opened up a kind of raw emotion in me that has so far been unprecedented.

You came to us kicking and screaming the last week of June from a neighborhood who clearly had no love lost at your departure. During one phone call, your life was even threatened. I felt anger at those who would cause you ill will, and I felt the need to protect you, but I did not love you, even in the largesse of my concern.

You certainly did not love us. You did not love your large cage that was much more sizable than the trap in which you arrived. You did not love hanging upside down from the china cabinet, although you managed it. You did not love the underside of the bench in my kitchen, although you sought refuge there. You did not love the other temporary residents, although you tolerated them much more than you tolerated Jason or me. You did not love the dog, and made this known with a sound that may not have previously reached any human ears. I don't believe you loved my fingers, although since you made a great attempt at their removal, it is hard to be sure. You did not love the car, the vet, or your recovery period, and reiterated this as often as possible.

And in this lovelessness, you embody the essence of the feral cat. You are wild, you are frightened, you are distrusting. You are independent, and you are capable of taking care of yourself. So why, why was it so hard to release you last night? Because I returned you, not to a colony, where there is guaranteed food, and someone to quietly see that your needs are met, but to an area which promises you nothing but harm, hunger, and a life on the run.

Sunny, I hope you were able to find somewhere safe to spend the night. I hope you found food this morning. I hope that you were sufficiently healed, and that you are able to make your way in the world. I hope that we were able to impact you so that you remember us fondly, now that you are far, far away - particularly from the dog and the vet. Most of all, I want you to know that I realized how much you mean to me when you raced from your trap with speed that a Tasmanian devil would envy, and made your way through the woods with a nimbleness that only comes with time and familiarity.

Godspeed to you, and blessings upon you.

Love,

Lizz