Monday, September 15, 2008

"Why are they all so beautiful?"

she asked the volunteer, tears in her eyes; unable to stay; unable to go.

"Because they all come here to die."

photography is not allowed. and there is so much pain and suffering.

all that is left? is hope. and love. I have never seen more hope anywhere more dire. If you want to see unconcentrated, pure hope, and the deepest love and affection, GASCONADE has it in spades.

His name is Toby.
His name is Angel.
Her name is Dazzle.

He has been there for three weeks.
She has been there for three days.
He is going to be killed tomorrow.

She will die the next day.
He is rabid. She will bite.
He used to get hit. She used to get chased by dogs.
He's sleeping in his litter box.
He won't come out to play.

I did find Orsino; he was upset. I did find Sir Almadeus, he was a resigned Southern Gentleman. I did find Hershey; who I knew so well. Don Gato was there. So was Smokey. And Bandit was there. So was Bakaryugji. Skitten was there. Sir Oliver Skitten. Hey, and you know who wasn't there? Mirabelle. Because her name is Rose N. Crantz. You know who wasn't there? Casanova. Sailor. Shepherd Buch. The Simon and Garfunkle kittens. Gollum. Fabio. Fortune Cookie; she wasn't there. I did see Mason; I was not surprised. He had shit luck in his last life; and it looks like he's in it again.

There was one of Olivia's cousins, a gentle beautiful buff-coloured Turkish Angora. There were several of Skittens litter mates. There was a Chinese temple cat; tabby and beautiful. There were perfectly swirled Maine Coon Cats.

They didn't let me have my camera; but I will not forget. I will never forget. I cried for two hours and the men and women who worked there understood. They are out of tears; but DON'T WORRY the soft-hearted steam punk engineer still has plenty of tears to share.

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