Twinkle is a dull grey cat with a bushy unkempt fur. Her oval shaped brown eyes lie deeply entrenched in her fur coat. Like most half a year-old kittens in that area, Tinkle has never met her mum or dad. Well maybe she did but she cannot remember anymore. Now and again when she thinks about this, many possibilities as to the whereabouts of her parents come to mind.
First, she suspects that Waller Street. That slightly curved road that leads to the church where Twinkle stays. Or rather where she crashes with her mates. Two days ago, one of the bigger cats, the lady among them all was smashed by a sky-blue SUV travelling at the speed of lightning. The culprit was this squinted eyed black skeletal framed man who first appeared to be sunk in his huge car seat until he suddenly popped out of his car with an overrated scowl on his face. “ Bloody cat!!!… This car is only a week old. Stupid cats everywhere! This neighborhood is full of shitty creatures.” The bone framed man kept on cursing and spitting at the protruding intestines of the victim that now lay helpless on the tar. Still in a fit, the sky-blue SUV drove away majestically. Twinkle remembers seeing the remains of the smashed body a day later. Then a week later, the lady among them all soon transformed to be a rotting pile of flesh curtained by flies.
The next possibility of where Twinkle`s parents succumbed to their fate pointed at the newly wedded couple that stays across the mall. The supermarket there had bred a dumpster for the past ten years that gets cleared once a week according to Tinkle`s sources. This is where the stray crew (a name given to all homeless animals) survives. However, some overlook the dumpster menu and tress pass into the new couple`s home sweet home. The trespassers ruin their budding flowers and are most likely to eat their baby up, the newly wedded couple said to the SPCA. The latter said they will rectify the “situation”. The SPCA took three months to come and when they did present themselves there was no situation to rectify anymore. The two little containers of cyanide poison that lay buried down in the basement had done the trick. The causalities included two mongrels and four cats.
Twinkle now strolls alone in the Mt Pleasant neighborhood. The other cats strangle her sometimes and she doesn’t like it. They say it harmless playing but still it irritates her. She now prefers to be alone and think. She thinks a lot these days. She sometimes wants to find that man in the sky-blue SUV and ask him if he knows whether the parent he murdered was her mother or not. She also wants to ask the couple if during “rectifying the situation” they had included her mom and dad. For Twinkle such curiosity is only natural. She is sure that if the new couple`s baby and that lean charcoal black man`s children had been in Twinkle`s shoes they too would have wanted to know.
By Linda Masaudze
I thought it was only the stripes that made us different my cousin, but alas. They say you are Beautiful and you give color and flair to the wild space, yet they call me the Beast of Burden. I bear all their burden, but I receive the hardest weep because am tired or that am injured. Even in the wild you are a Diva they pose and take pictures of you and with you. Your likes and followership on social media is just overwhelming.
Gracefully they yoke me, and I help them plough their fields, carry all heavy load for them over long distances, I carry the sick to clinics, I ferry their little ones to school to and from. But you my cousin are untamed, a free spirit you are.
Be that as it may, am sorry to say that ‘am sorry’, we are all facing the same threat of extinction. They deceive you with cameras while the carry rifles ready to let the bullet after your colored hide. I have seen the erection of what they call abattoirs, they now push and shove me into these small dirty trucks, starve me so that they can take away my skin. Haaaaaa I now face the guillotine, brutally and painfully I am slaughtered.
Am so sorry cousin, they have put profit before sustainability, greed over need, the rule of gold above the golden rule. Our cry is the same, you are threatened by poachers. For me the very people I help have turned against me for short term gain.
Wish I had a Lawyer to speak on my behalf cousin, that he may plead my case before administrative, political and judicial leaders. An error does not become a mistake until we refuse to confront it. I can’t speak but they can.
BY Innocent Ferris Rupapa