Cab-or-Ella
I've really done it this time. There's a stray cat in my spare room, dying. I know that it's dying because I could not only count its ribs but its internal organs too if I wanted. I don't. Petting it makes me cry, so I'm not exactly feeling up its liver.
As far as I can tell, something got its left eye and an infection followed. The infection slowed it down, which is deadly on the streets of Brooklyn. Now it's just starving. The funny thing is that I think it might have belonged to someone. It's not really afraid of me and when I attempted to pet it (yes, yes, I know, rabies - but this cat couldn't whip around quick enough to surprise a sloth) it acted just like a starved for attention house cat. It also appears to enjoy violin music, but then most cats do.
Let's look at the problems here for a minute. 1)cat with possible rabies and definite fleas. 2)contract with my landlord that says *no animals*. 3)animal control that says 'hey we've got a person pr. borough so don't hold your breath. 4)I have classes tomorrow, almost all day - what to do with the cat? 5)I may have mentioned this before, but IT'S DYING.
The best plan I've got now is diligent prayer to every god I can think of.
Its name is either Ella Fitzgerald or Cab Calloway. I figured between Strange Fruit and St. James Infirmary Blues I'd covered everything.