(no subject)
This morning I heard snarling on the balcony, and look out to see Moppet squaring off with a slightly bedraggled stray with a red gash under its chin and an entire flap of skin missing over one eye. I nearly cried then and there. I shooed Moppet inside and gave it food, I couldn't help it, my heart was breaking. There was no chance it would have let me approach it and clean out the wounds, so it was the only thing I could offer. I think we've found where my maternal instincts went... Poor baby. I'd adopt it if we could, but I'll be gone soon, and my parents wouldn't have it, plus it'd be hell to domesticate it (inasmuch as cats ever are domesticated anyway). *sigh* Looks like I'm going to join our local St Francis of Animals in feeding the local stray cats....