Znegative
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 15, 2010
- Messages
- 6,019
Out in The Bay, we had a cat. She had been brought down to our camp by a friend of mine named ‘Otis’.
After several weeks, and a few successful escape attempts, Otis grew tired of that cat. He was outraged by how ungrateful she was- his rational being that he had given the cat a home (a 4 person tent littered with syringes and cookers), and that he had fed that cat when he could afford it. Yet the cat continued to defy him, and so, he disowned her.
But the cat stayed by our camp, and eventually found it’s way into our own little slice of hell. Mice had nibbled a hole through the back vent of our ‘home’, and the cat would squeeze in and out of it. We could not think of a good name for her, so she was simply called ‘Kitty’.
‘Kitty’ became incredibly popular, for she was a remarkable cat. She loved and trusted people, and we would often find her surrounded by ambassadors (a special ‘clean up team’ assembled by the city to take care of our messes), who would give her treats and take turns holding her.
Eventually she became quite plump, because while me and my (ex) girlfriend were out hustling, she would hit up all the tweaker camps, which always had an abundance of food, since they never ate anyway.
Every day when we’d come back to the camp to count our money, ‘Kitty’ would suddenly reaper, giving a cheerful little meow, and jumping into our tent. She was a cat with fine taste, and despised watching us become inebriated. My girlfriend would have to open up the tent door to blow out the crack smoke, and I would turn my back to ‘Kitty’ when ever I was ready to fix a shot.
I really loved this cat because I felt that she brought out a part of myself that I had seemingly lost in my downward spiral into chemical depravity. I liked to pet her and take care of her. She added an element of ‘family’ to my life. In short, she made me feel a bit more human.
One night at around 3 a.m our friend Chris, who lived in the middle island of the camp, ran across the street and woke us up. He was holding ‘Kitty’ in a little towel, and instantly my heart dropped. He told me that he had seen her get hit by a car while crossing the road, but had managed to do a sort of sideways limp into the foliage at the opposite spectrum of the tunnel. There he was able to catch her. She was bleeding internally, and crying a lot. We took her into the tent and stayed up all night trying to make her as comfortable as possible.
She survived until the morning, and I spent the next day trying to figure out how to help her. The fact that blood was coming out of her rear end was indicative of internal bleeding, and my friend told me that she was almost certainly going to die. After asking around, someone told us to call animal control.
I waited all day in the tent with the cat, giving her small oral dosages of heroin to try and ease her suffering. At first I thought that was the right thing to do, but then she would feel numb to the pain, and so she’d get up and try to walk, and watching her frustration as she’d inevitably fall over within a couple strides, made me feel really bad.
Finally, in the late afternoon animal control showed up. I walked out to where their car was parked, and started explaining the situation to them. They told us that the cat would be euthanized, there wasn’t even a chance of her seeing a veterinarian.
Having just slammed some crystal meth, everything was suddenly a very confusing moral dilemma. I told animal control that I wasn’t yet ready to make such a decision, and that I’d call back if I changed my mind. They told me; ’OK’.
That night kitty disappeared. The following morning we found her under a sewer gutter. She had fallen in and could not jump back out.
It just so happened that across the way there was a fire-truck parked, and so I sent my girlfriend running over there, thinking that maybe they could help. Ten minutes later we saw the truck pull around the corner, and three toned, well-fed Californian Fire-Fighters jumped out of the back with a crowbar. They wrenched open the coverage and I dived my arms down and pulled kitty out. It was a very happy moment, for everyone involved. Even the fire-fighters were patting the junkies on their backs and laughing with us.
We took kitty back to our tent where I put her in a little box. During the night kitty started trying to escape the tent again, she kept managing to get out of the hole and then falling down, so we would have to pick her up and bring her back in again. She also started to soil herself, and at that point I couldn’t take it anymore. I resolved that the next day I would either call animal control again to have her put down, or I would hustle up enough money to OD ‘Kitty’ on my own.
But when we woke up, she was gone. I naturally assumed that she had gone off to die alone, as animals do, and in a way I was relieved. Watching her suffer made me miserable. The next night we all got high ‘for Kitty’.
The following day I had come down with serious bronchitis and I had to be rushed to the ICU. A few hours in I was kicked out for shooting heroin into my IV, and had to travel to the East to go to Highland Hospital.
I was stuck there for about two weeks before they let me leave. My girlfriend would go out during the day and hustle up money and then bring me drugs back at night. It was pretty depressing, but eventually I got out.
When I left the hospital I got on a bus and took it downtown a few blocks from where our camp was located. Still wheezing I made my down the dead end alley where our tents were set up, and as I reached the end I heard a rapid series of little meows coming from behind a fence. I looked in the direction of the cries, and there was my cat, ‘Kitty’, and to my disbelief, she was completely fine, running around like nothing had ever happened.
My friend ended up finding a nice home for Kitty, a pet food store owner offered to take her off our hands. It was sad, but we knew she couldn’t live with us anymore, seeing as we were located by several major highways and tunnels.
I like this story because it’s one of the few I can think of that actually has a sincerely happy ending. Though I am not a believer in ‘God’, per se, this was one instance in which I was truly baffled.
After several weeks, and a few successful escape attempts, Otis grew tired of that cat. He was outraged by how ungrateful she was- his rational being that he had given the cat a home (a 4 person tent littered with syringes and cookers), and that he had fed that cat when he could afford it. Yet the cat continued to defy him, and so, he disowned her.
But the cat stayed by our camp, and eventually found it’s way into our own little slice of hell. Mice had nibbled a hole through the back vent of our ‘home’, and the cat would squeeze in and out of it. We could not think of a good name for her, so she was simply called ‘Kitty’.
‘Kitty’ became incredibly popular, for she was a remarkable cat. She loved and trusted people, and we would often find her surrounded by ambassadors (a special ‘clean up team’ assembled by the city to take care of our messes), who would give her treats and take turns holding her.
Eventually she became quite plump, because while me and my (ex) girlfriend were out hustling, she would hit up all the tweaker camps, which always had an abundance of food, since they never ate anyway.
Every day when we’d come back to the camp to count our money, ‘Kitty’ would suddenly reaper, giving a cheerful little meow, and jumping into our tent. She was a cat with fine taste, and despised watching us become inebriated. My girlfriend would have to open up the tent door to blow out the crack smoke, and I would turn my back to ‘Kitty’ when ever I was ready to fix a shot.
I really loved this cat because I felt that she brought out a part of myself that I had seemingly lost in my downward spiral into chemical depravity. I liked to pet her and take care of her. She added an element of ‘family’ to my life. In short, she made me feel a bit more human.
One night at around 3 a.m our friend Chris, who lived in the middle island of the camp, ran across the street and woke us up. He was holding ‘Kitty’ in a little towel, and instantly my heart dropped. He told me that he had seen her get hit by a car while crossing the road, but had managed to do a sort of sideways limp into the foliage at the opposite spectrum of the tunnel. There he was able to catch her. She was bleeding internally, and crying a lot. We took her into the tent and stayed up all night trying to make her as comfortable as possible.
She survived until the morning, and I spent the next day trying to figure out how to help her. The fact that blood was coming out of her rear end was indicative of internal bleeding, and my friend told me that she was almost certainly going to die. After asking around, someone told us to call animal control.
I waited all day in the tent with the cat, giving her small oral dosages of heroin to try and ease her suffering. At first I thought that was the right thing to do, but then she would feel numb to the pain, and so she’d get up and try to walk, and watching her frustration as she’d inevitably fall over within a couple strides, made me feel really bad.
Finally, in the late afternoon animal control showed up. I walked out to where their car was parked, and started explaining the situation to them. They told us that the cat would be euthanized, there wasn’t even a chance of her seeing a veterinarian.
Having just slammed some crystal meth, everything was suddenly a very confusing moral dilemma. I told animal control that I wasn’t yet ready to make such a decision, and that I’d call back if I changed my mind. They told me; ’OK’.
That night kitty disappeared. The following morning we found her under a sewer gutter. She had fallen in and could not jump back out.
It just so happened that across the way there was a fire-truck parked, and so I sent my girlfriend running over there, thinking that maybe they could help. Ten minutes later we saw the truck pull around the corner, and three toned, well-fed Californian Fire-Fighters jumped out of the back with a crowbar. They wrenched open the coverage and I dived my arms down and pulled kitty out. It was a very happy moment, for everyone involved. Even the fire-fighters were patting the junkies on their backs and laughing with us.
We took kitty back to our tent where I put her in a little box. During the night kitty started trying to escape the tent again, she kept managing to get out of the hole and then falling down, so we would have to pick her up and bring her back in again. She also started to soil herself, and at that point I couldn’t take it anymore. I resolved that the next day I would either call animal control again to have her put down, or I would hustle up enough money to OD ‘Kitty’ on my own.
But when we woke up, she was gone. I naturally assumed that she had gone off to die alone, as animals do, and in a way I was relieved. Watching her suffer made me miserable. The next night we all got high ‘for Kitty’.
The following day I had come down with serious bronchitis and I had to be rushed to the ICU. A few hours in I was kicked out for shooting heroin into my IV, and had to travel to the East to go to Highland Hospital.
I was stuck there for about two weeks before they let me leave. My girlfriend would go out during the day and hustle up money and then bring me drugs back at night. It was pretty depressing, but eventually I got out.
When I left the hospital I got on a bus and took it downtown a few blocks from where our camp was located. Still wheezing I made my down the dead end alley where our tents were set up, and as I reached the end I heard a rapid series of little meows coming from behind a fence. I looked in the direction of the cries, and there was my cat, ‘Kitty’, and to my disbelief, she was completely fine, running around like nothing had ever happened.
My friend ended up finding a nice home for Kitty, a pet food store owner offered to take her off our hands. It was sad, but we knew she couldn’t live with us anymore, seeing as we were located by several major highways and tunnels.
I like this story because it’s one of the few I can think of that actually has a sincerely happy ending. Though I am not a believer in ‘God’, per se, this was one instance in which I was truly baffled.
