April 28th, 2005
|05:15 pm - marconi the radio cat|
Marconi is a little black cat who hangs out on the steps of the WEZE transmitter building on the Mystic Valley Parkway. You'd never notice the building if you weren't looking for it; it's wedged between the car dealership and the Bertucci's and there's no signs or nothing on it. I had to Google the approximate address to find out what facility it was and who was using it. I've never seen anybody in or around the place, except Marconi. Maybe he runs the transmitter. I don't know.
I saw him this afternoon while walking down to the strip mall for lunch. He was sitting up in the weeds on the concrete steps, fur ruffled up to protect him from the wind a bit. He looked over and saw me and blinked; I blinked back to say hello, and then I was on my way. I was heading towards Subway but then I thought that it'd be nice to give Marconi a little something on my way back, so I went to Boston Market instead.
As I'm heading into the store some dude runs up to the door and gets in before me. That's no problem, even if there is a bit of a line ahead of us. But then when we get to the counter he makes his order: TWO CHICKENS NO SKIN NO BONES AND A SIDE OF THIS AND A SIDE OF THAT AND SOME OF THOSE AND THESE AND AND AND AND and the line is held up ten minutes while the one chicken dude is busy de-boning and de-skinning two whole chickens. So I scarf down some of my order, WHEN I FINALLY GET IT, and cut the rest up into pieces, then head back out towards the radio building.
There is Marconi, still on the steps, still glancing over at me quiet like an owl with a swivelly head. I kneel down at the base of the perimeter fence and hold out some chicken.
"Hey there, buddy. I got a little chicken if you want it."
He seems indifferent at first, and then he gets a whiff of the chicken, and I'm prepared to lightly toss the chicken through the fence and let him have it, when disaster strikes.
Some Dude in Big Hoodie Sweatshirt Yakking Loudly On Cellphone comes walking down the sidewalk by me. Marconi had already gotten up and was stepping off the concrete to investigate the chicken, but the sudden appearance of a large loud hulking shape startles him greatly. So he takes off behind the dumpster and around to the spot in the fence where there's a hole, only the dude is walking in that direction too. The Dude hasn't given me a second glance, and he sure as hell isn't noticing a little black cat, who's now worried that his one avenue of escape has been compromised by this lumbering giant. With a burst of speed Marconi dashes out of the fenced area, across the sidewalk, down the embankment and speeds off across Mystic Valley Parkway. Divided highway. Four lanes. And, amazingly enough, no oncoming traffic. I can't believe how grateful I am for the traffic lights in the area right then.
"You sonofabitch!" I seethe at the Dude, oblivious to the shitstorm he just stirred up and the cat he just scared. He doesn't even notice. Marconi is across the street, presumably, hanging out in the conservation area parking lot.
And I'm late coming back from lunch with a lot more chicken than I thought I'd have.
I hope the little cat shows up some other time. And I hope his trust, however tenuous and sketchy seeing as how he's a stray to begin with, hasn't totally been compromised.
Poor little fella.
For a few weeks back when I had my paper route, there was a stray who would follow me around for about half the route. He would always meet me in the same place and follow dutifully behind until we reached the leaving place and he would go happily along on his way.
Until one day when he was a little slow crossing the street behind me. And some asshole teenager and his girlfriend in a crappy pick-up thought it would be funny to speed up and swerve so they could run him over.
Which they did. Right in front of me. The girlfriend even turned around laughing as they sped away.
It was such a nice kitty, too. Sometimes I still cry when I think about it. I think I can pinpoint that moment as the precise instant I decided I would not stay in Turners any longer than I had to.
Tell me about it.
Turners is full of animal abusers. There was a different group of boys who kidnapped my brother's girlfriend's cat, put him in a big metal coffee can and then threw him on a fire.
Ahh, small town life... Idyllic, no?
That's one of the most horrible things I've ever read on LiveJournal and I've read some horrible things.
I'd have picked up whatever I could and just hurled it at them. I wouldn't have cared at that point if I'd started a fight; there would've been just too much anger to see clearly.
There's a radio drama with a very nasty ending formulating in my head right now. I bet you can guess that it ends with a pickup truck flying off a cliff and landing on top of a propane tank which then explodes, hurling the crappy pickup onto a set of train tracks in time for it to be smashed into a thousand tiny flaming fragments by an oncoming diesel locomotive.
And that's sill too good for 'em.
GodDAMN. That's awful. I'm sorry you had to witness that.
I suspect before long Marconi will find himself thinking, "gee, that chicken was good... maybe if I go hang out in that spot again that nice guy with the chicken will come back, because dude, free chicken!"
Okay, he might not think "dude" ... he is probably far more erudite than that, being a Radio Cat. But you get the general drift.
Agreed. Cats are smart. I never met one that couldn't differentiate between "friend with food" and "Jackass".
If only he'd had a taste of the chicken before running off! But no, he abandoned all dinner pursuits in favor of Getting Away From Bad Presence.
Poor guy. But I bet he got enough of a whiff of it that he'll remember.
|Date:||April 29th, 2005 01:27 pm (UTC)|| |
I hate that large loud hulking hulk.
One question, though: When did the little fella tell you his name?
He's a radio cat. It was broadcast, natch.
I swear to ghod, sometimes I think cell phones are one of the worst things invented....
They make people even more insular and unobservant than they already are. This is especially "great" when said jerk is driving an SUV at the same time....
Hope the cat is okay.
Let us know....
You're a good man, Spatch.
that is sad, sad, sad.
if something bad happens to little Marconi, i don't even want to know about it.