The Death of a Kitten

          I was sitting on the steps of the flat we had rented for our stay in Istanbul, enjoying a cigarette and the cold weather that is so far from frequent in Israel. I had been in Israel for only four months at this point, and the heat and humidity bickered with one another like a pair of small children, both serving the same purpose of making me miserable. I was rather fond of the cold.

           The small street the flat was situated on was busy, with small vegetable stands, a few fantastic restaurants, and directly across from us, a barber shop. A man sat, smoking out front. A small cat, a kitten really, tried to run into the shop. He shooed it out. As it was running across the street, a car approached. The man gestured to the kitten, attempting to sway its course away from the car. I, along with this man, and a few others, watched the kitten's lower half disappear under the wheels of the car.

          This kitten had no concept of gravity, shit, it wasn't old enough to have ever been stepped on. It had no concept of the force of heavy objects weighing down, being pulled towards the earth. It had no concept of death or destruction. It took a few moments before it realized what had happened to it, and then it started to spasm. It mewled so pitifully as it died, claws splayed out in protest of what had already become unavoidable.

          It cried, and cried for three seconds that lasted dozens of decades. The man who felt like he had caused the death of this creature walked over and picked it up. He was joined by two other men. They sat, all three of them, petting this broken little creature until it died. The man, whom I couldn't understand, seemed to feel responsible for the death of a kitten. I could see the shame in his eyes, but how could he have known? How could he have known that a car would come at that very moment and weigh down upon a kitten who just wanted to go inside a barbershop?

           The principle of human existence is to ease the suffering of creatures, not excluding humans. As one causes suffering to others, one fails at the main facet of existence. These men, three burly mustachioed men, who exist in a culture that I perceive as holding a fair amount of machismo, stopped their lives for just a few moments to comfort a creature in the throws of death. Watching a kitten die was horrifying and upsetting. More upsetting was watching these three men attempt to comfort the death of something that couldn't possibly understand one of the oldest and most constant concepts of existing, while it performed just that.

          It was a very poignant moment for me, watching these men trying to comfort this beast. The only participant in this display of human empathy would perish within moments, and I couldn't help but ask myself if it made a difference. Of course it made a difference, as this kitten died, it was loved. It was a stray cat for perhaps the short few months of its life. If I had to guess, without any affection or care. I didn't know the personal details of this kitten, but given my observations of stray cats in general, its life couldn't have been much different.

           Yet, in its most important death, it found love. Temporary love, harbored only out of pity, but love nonetheless. Three humans showed compassion for a living thing, one of which was ashamed of his lack of such in the first place, stood there, petting this little fucking cat until it died. Until it died. It died. I put my cigarette out, and walked back inside, unable to truly grasp the gravity of the situation which had transpired. I'll never forget watching those three men trying to comfort something which couldn't understand the principle of comfort in the first place. Were their actions for the kitten?