The outlying islands of Penghu are quiet and peaceful. In the alleys of the small fishing village, you can often see cats lazily lying in the sun or wandering around leisurely.
Little Gangster is one of them.
The first time I saw her, I immediately noticed her unique appearance - a pair of asymmetrical eyes with a hint of stubbornness, she was born with only two toes on her forelimbs, and she walked in an unstable and clumsy manner, but she had a unique sense of elegance. She was so small that she looked like a kitten until the woman who was feeding her told me that she had already given birth. However, perhaps due to genetic reasons, none of the kittens in that litter survived.
The little gangster girl carried the dead kittens one by one to the woman's door, then squatted there, wailing for several days.
If only I could take her away. But the reality is always unsatisfactory. As a passerby, the only thing I can do is to help her arrange sterilization so that she doesn't have to go through such pain again. This may be the only tenderness that humans can give - depriving her of the possibility of giving birth again in the name of "love".
People always say that stray cats are free, but the life of a female cat is often trapped in the cycle of estrus, pregnancy, and lactation. Her body is hollowed out again and again until she ages, falls ill, and dies. What we can do for them is to stop this cycle so that they can live longer and more easily.
But sometimes I wonder, are they really the ones who should be restrained in this world? We build cities, cut down forests, fill in the coasts, and shape the land to make it suitable for humans, but in turn we deprive those lives that cannot adapt of their ability to reproduce.
The little girl licked her paws in the afternoon sun, her eyes calm and her tail gently tapping the ground, as if she didn't care about anything. But I know that in her short life, there were days when she squatted at the door, making weak sounds in her throat, waiting for the children whom she would never wait for.
Little Gangster is one of them.
The first time I saw her, I immediately noticed her unique appearance - a pair of asymmetrical eyes with a hint of stubbornness, she was born with only two toes on her forelimbs, and she walked in an unstable and clumsy manner, but she had a unique sense of elegance. She was so small that she looked like a kitten until the woman who was feeding her told me that she had already given birth. However, perhaps due to genetic reasons, none of the kittens in that litter survived.
The little gangster girl carried the dead kittens one by one to the woman's door, then squatted there, wailing for several days.
If only I could take her away. But the reality is always unsatisfactory. As a passerby, the only thing I can do is to help her arrange sterilization so that she doesn't have to go through such pain again. This may be the only tenderness that humans can give - depriving her of the possibility of giving birth again in the name of "love".
People always say that stray cats are free, but the life of a female cat is often trapped in the cycle of estrus, pregnancy, and lactation. Her body is hollowed out again and again until she ages, falls ill, and dies. What we can do for them is to stop this cycle so that they can live longer and more easily.
But sometimes I wonder, are they really the ones who should be restrained in this world? We build cities, cut down forests, fill in the coasts, and shape the land to make it suitable for humans, but in turn we deprive those lives that cannot adapt of their ability to reproduce.
The little girl licked her paws in the afternoon sun, her eyes calm and her tail gently tapping the ground, as if she didn't care about anything. But I know that in her short life, there were days when she squatted at the door, making weak sounds in her throat, waiting for the children whom she would never wait for.