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The Jody Wilson Stories by Bassam Imam - HTML preview

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My name is Jody Wilson. I'm a gorgeous, short-haired Tabby. My coat is gray, and my beautiful eyes are hypnotic. I was told that I was born at Camp Puppy Mill, located somewhere in Northeastern Missouri. Camp Puppy Mill was a run-down, sorry excuse for a home. Well, aren't most puppy mills like that?

Now, before you start wondering how a 'cat' happened to be born in a puppy mill, I'll answer your question. Although most inmates in puppy mills are dogs, cats can sometimes be found there. It all depends on how much money the owner of the establishment wants to make.

Good animal shelters fare better than any puppy mill. My mother was born in an animal shelter, somewhere in Northeastern Missouri. She was purchased by Steve and Karen Wilson. They refused to purchase a cat from a pet store. They understood that many pet stores purchase their cats and dogs from unscrupulous animal dealers.

The Wilsons showered my mother with love, good food, toys, clean water, and a mini-play ground. Cats who are companion animals must be treated well. Cat owners should only be thankful that they have an additional member added to their family.

The toys and backyard play area of the Wilson home was the envy of other cats in the neighborhood. On weekends and holidays, cats and kids from the neighborhood would sneak into the Wilson’s yard in order to play with my mother. Although the kids behaved as though they were there to admire her, they just wanted to play with her toys.

My mother was taken to the veterinarian once a year for a routine physical examination. On my mother's first visit, Dr. Fredericks tried to convince the Wilsons to declaw her. Citing warped examples of cat owners who no longer felt the need to cover their furniture after the mutilation it became a nightmare for my mother.

Thankfully, the nightmare was short-lived. The Wilsons had up-to-date knowledge about the possible complications from declawing. Cats need their claws for offense, defense, climbing, leaping, and walking. In simple terms, a cat's not a cat, without his/her claws.

My mother would've preferred to live on the streets, rather than live as a mutilated cat. Most cats would choose likewise. Imagine if someone were to chop off the first digit of each one of your fingers. It wouldn't feel good!

Rick Preston, a neighbor of the Wilsons, agreed with Dr. Fredrick's proposal. My mother never got along with either creep. She suspected that they had inner hatred/envy towards her. After all, she was very beautiful.

“Your cat may decide to tear into your sofas and chairs,” Rick once said.
Just for the record, my mother never scratched any of the Wilson's furniture. She was a sweet and gentle cat. She respected the rights and properties of others. She was a good North American cat.
Besides, the Wilsons had two scratching posts inside of their home; eradicating any urges my mother would've had for scratching-up the furniture.
My mother practiced her clawing techniques on the scratching posts; imagining that she was a tigress clawing a tree. As a secondary precaution, the Wilsons kept two pairs of 'soft paws' in their home. Just in case my mother became restless.
Although my mother was fed on a regular schedule, sometimes she got a sudden urge for a snack. She'd call out to the Wilsons, and then roll onto her back. If that didn't work, she'd approach one of the Wilsons and play cutie-pie. That method almost always worked.
When my mother turned two, the Wilsons brought her along on a trip to Hawaii. The Wilsons prepared for the trip well in advance. My mother was told that the family was going to a very nice place.
On the day of the trip the Wilsons made sure all the needed accessories and articles of clothing were in their suitcases and handbags.
The Wilsons were hard-working attorneys. Technically, Mr. Wilson worked for his wife. She was the owner of The McCartney Law Firm. Mrs. Wilson inherited ownership of the firm from her aunt, Francine McCartney
My mother was thankful to be a member of the Wilson family. My mother already had the 'Wilson' name before she was adopted. It was by pure coincidence that a Wilson adopted a Wilson.
The Wilsons were glad that my mother had the same family name as they did. This was one of the reasons they purchased my mother from the animal shelter.
Millions of cats around the world are forced to live on the 'tough streets', fighting for food, territory, and mating privileges. For a cat to make it on the streets, toughness and cunning are mandatory. Cats that are naive have a difficult time surviving.
Cats on the streets that don't want to starve must hold their ground against their own kind, and 'other enemies'. These 'other enemies' include: vermin control officers (VCOs), police officers, dogs, habitat destruction and alteration, vehicles, pollution, most rats, evil humans, raccoons, contaminated foods or water, infections, diseases (contagious and non-contagious), parasites, flies, and fleas.
Amongst dogs and cats, the big 'R' is the most horrifying sickness! The 'R' stands for rabies. No dog or cat wants to endup with rabies. Any contagion that can't be cured results in a death sentence for the poor animal.
On the morning of the planned trip to Hawaii, my mother pictured beautiful trees, bodies of water, and much sunshine. Also, taking long walks with the Wilsons; not having to worry about snow or cold weather.
After the Wilsons finished packing, Karen called for a cab.
"Hello, is this the Blue Cab Company?" asked Karen.
"Yes madam. This is John, the dispatcher for the Blue Cab Company. May I be of assistance?"
"Please send a cab to 1375 Bryson Street West. We want to go to the airport," said Karen.
"Sure madam. Your cab will be there in fifteen minutes. Is there anything else?" asked the dispatcher.
"No, we'll be waiting for the cab in our living room. Please tell the driver to honk his horn several times as soon as he arrives," said Karen.
Mrs. Wilson turned off her cell phone, and then glanced at the clock on the living room wall. The time was 8:00 A.M. The Wilson's flight was scheduled to leave at 10:00 A.M.
Although my mother was happy about going to Hawaii, she was aware that unexpected problems could occur at any moment. For example, the cab driver could end up going to the wrong address.
Also, car problems could develop on the way to the airport. Being on the alert is an inherent quality of cats; while they're not napping.
At 8:15 A.M., the Wilsons heard five honks emanating from their driveway.
Mrs. Wilson pulled apart two blinds, and then looked outside. She saw a Blue Cab. Then, she looked back at Mr. Wilson, and smiled. It was time to leave.
"Steve, it's the cabby! The driver arrived on time. We've got to leave, now!" exclaimed Karen.
The Wilsons quickly carried their suitcases and handbags out to the cab, forgetting someone very important in the process. For a minute, my mother thought that the Wilsons had decided to leave her behind.
"Please, wait a minute! I need to go back! We forgot Mandy!" exclaimed Karen.
"No problem," answered the cabby.
Karen ran back into her house, and then told my mother to come. As soon as my mother was within arms' reach, Karen hoisted her off of the floor, and then exited her house. She closed the door behind her, and then locked it.
After Steve picked up the animal carrier, Karen put my mother inside it. Then, my mother heard the cling of the door closing.
Many cats are sensitive to being 'incarcerated' inside a small animal carrier. Never mind what the so-called human experts may say. They're not always right, nor are they always honest. Animal carriers should be bigger, and have more 'air openings'. The animal inside the carrier needs to feel comfortable, not claustrophobic!
My mother pleaded with the Wilsons to let her out. She even tried scratching the interior of the animal carrier. Her efforts were to no avail.
"Please, let me out! I don't want to be inside this tiny cell! I'm not an inanimate object!" shouted my mother.
The Wilsons were too preoccupied with their trip to take notice of my mother's pleas. The Wilsons should have placed my mother inside a bigger animal carrier. Even good animal owners make mistakes.
My mother once told me that if she was as strong as Superwoman, she would've smashed her way out of that 'suffocating' animal carrier.
A living being inside an animal carrier should be able to breathe freely, turn around, stand up, lie down, take three steps in every direction, and be able to see the outside world with the least hindrance. Some cats become terrified or apathetic, when they're placed inside an animal carrier. They don't understand why their 'beloved owners' are harming them. The cabby put the Wilson’s luggage in the trunk of his cab. In the process, he grinned at the Wilsons, but glared at my mother. My mother was aware of the extreme hatred that some humans have towards cats. It's a bit confusing. Cats are cute, cuddly, agile, fun to be with (sometimes), and don't gripe as much as human babies do. In fact, humans who own well-behaved cats have a gem in their possession.
"Sir, madam, I had a cat back when I was a kid. She was cute, but obnoxious," said the cabby.
"Really?" asked Steve.
"Where are you heading to?” asked the cabby.
"We're going to Hawaii," replied Steve.
"My sister moved to Hawaii fifteen years ago. She spent five years of her life there. Afterwards, she moved up to Montana. I'm originally from Portland, Maine. Gosh, whenever it snowed, I dreamed of sunshine, palm trees, grass, and a beautiful ocean.
I moved to Missouri five years ago. Initially, I wanted to stay here for only two years, save some money, and then move out west. All that changed when I met my dear wife. She was the best thing that ever happened to me," said the cabby.
"Okay, I understand how she was the best thing that ever happened to you, but why didn't you try to convince her to move out west with you?" asked Steve.
"Sir, I did try. She told me that I'd have to go alone. Her home was in Missouri, and only Missouri. I had to make up my mind. Live with Laura, or live out west. I decided to do the right thing. We've had an incredible relationship since then.
My wife's a high school teacher. She taught me about the importance of getting a proper education. That's why I'm taking night classes this semester. I like being a cabby, but, I'd prefer to have a 'brainy job'.
Cats are very interesting animals. As a general rule, they don't intimidate or attack humans. But, I don't like all cats! The first impression I have of a cat is what I keep with me forever. I mean, if I don't like him/her the moment we meet, that's the way it'll always be," said the cabby.
"A cat must come into contact with humans early in life. Otherwise, he/she will have a lifelong apprehension of strangers (humans). Apprehensive cats won't allow themselves to get too comfy with strangers. Many stray cats that have never had any contact with humans will shy away, or even flee upon seeing a human. Even if the human were to get down on one knee, and speak softly to the cat. It'd make no difference, whatsoever.
You're absolutely right! To an apprehensive cat, humans appear as giant bipedals," said Karen.
The cabby grinned at the Wilsons, then pulled out of the driveway and headed for the airport.
Things were running smoothly. A cat couldn't have asked for anything more.
My mother's incredible feline senses enabled her to estimate the correct time and distance between each fare increase. Karen had frequently brought my mother along on taxi rides in the past. My mother loved to look out of the window.
Sadly, she saw too many dilapidated strays. Some of them had horrific wounds scattered throughout their bodies. Others were bordering on starvation. Regardless, every stray cat is wanted by the VCOs. Strays are like escapees from a
At any moment in time, a VCO, or any officer of the law, for that matter, may chase them down.
Strays may have signs of extreme stress and apprehension on their faces. Being out on the streets is really tough for cats and dogs. Not to mention raccoons, pigeons, and other desperate animals.
But, it's much tougher for domesticated dogs and cats who've just been 'evicted' from their homes. Feral animals have a long history of living outdoors. However, today's world isn't like that of old. Humans are now the 'conquerors' of the new world. Many humans don't want to see 'creatures' in their towns, cities, or counties. Indeed, it's 'a human-eat-all-otheranimals-world'.
After twenty five minutes of driving, the Wilsons were within eye's view of the airport.
The sounds that were emanating from the airplanes were very annoying. Yes, even cats hate noise pollution.
Many cats think that airplanes are giant metallic birds. Not Mandy Wilson. My mother knew better.
Upon entering Kansas City International Airport, the cab driver rolled down his window, then waited patiently for the parking lot attendant to speak.
"You know the rules. Ten minutes, only. If you stay longer, I'll fine you big times. I'm not kidding," said the parking lot attendant.
"No problem," replied the cabby.
After receiving his entrance receipt the cab driver drove to the airline terminals.
"Please drop us off at the Trans West Airlines terminal," said Karen.
"Certainly," replied the cabby.
Upon reaching the Trans West Airlines terminal, the cabby pulled over into the curb, and then turned off the meter.
Steve pulled out two bills from his wallet then handed them to the cabby.
"Please, give me a moment," said the cabby.
"You've been a good cabby. Go ahead. Keep the change," said Steve.
The cabby thanked the Wilsons for being good passengers, and for the generous tip. Afterwards, he exited his cab, opened the passenger doors, and then opened the trunk.
"I'm glad we didn't forget our baby! She's such an important part of our lives! If anything were to happen to our baby, I'd go nuts!" exclaimed Karen.
After all was done, the Wilsons entered the Trans West Airlines terminal, and then headed straight to the baggage check-in area.
The Wilsons encountered a line of frustrated travelers. It took roughly twenty minutes for the Wilsons to check-in their baggage, along with the animal carrier.
As soon as their baggage was placed on the conveyor belt, the Wilsons felt a gush of relief. At the other end of the conveyor belt, a muscular baggage handler took hold of my mother's animal carrier and then placed it in a baggage transporter.
The Wilsons assumed that the animals in the plane's cargo section were going to enjoy the long flight. Not quite so. Some of the animals in the baggage transporter were visibly shaken. The baggage handlers were impersonal and a bit rough in their handling of the animal carriers.
"Where are these strangers taking us?" asked a Golden Retriever.
There was no answer. For the time being, each of the animals was too occupied with his/her own fate to answer the question.
The muscular baggage handler drove the airport cart to the airplane loading section. The terrified animals were removed from their animal carriers. Afterwards, they were promptly placed inside separate cages. After the work was done, the muscular baggage handler called-in to have the airplane's hatch closed.
“I feel like a cheap piece of baggage,” said the Golden Retriever.
The animals waited for fifteen terrifying minutes, before hearing a thunderous, rumbling sound. Airplane engines sound like roaring monsters to the cargo animals.
"We'll be taking off soon!" exclaimed my mother.
My mother didn't want to reveal her fear to the other animals. So, she pretended that she was excited about the whole affair.
As soon as the airplane began to back-up, a black cat barfed. Another cat defecated and urinated. There was nobody around to comfort them. While their owners were 'on deck' they were in the 'hole'.
While the captain was driving the airplane on the tarmac, the scene inside the cargo section became chaotic. In other words, the animals went crazy. Apparently, the cargo animals couldn't understand the sudden change in speed.
A Dachshund 'engulfed' her cage in urine, feces, and vomit. Even a tough lion would've 'freaked-out' from the ordeal.
The animals in the cargo section felt like they were entering another dimension. Even the concept of time had changed. Of course, when you're terrified, or in pain, time passes slowly. Things improved a bit as soon as the airplane leveled off at 35,000 feet.
Because cargo animals aren't paying customers, airline executives generally don't think of them when making decisions about plane safety or comfort. In the meantime, cargo animals will have to bite-the-bullet until the situation improves.
It was impossible for the cargo animals to ignore each other. Of course, with nothing to do and hours of waiting, it was evident they'd converse with each other.
My mother eyed the other animals, trying to pick out a good friend to converse with. She spotted a zebra cat (white and black colored), with green eyes and who appeared to have a good temperament. He was in the cage on the left of my mother.
Initially, my mother was hesitant to initiate a conversation. Sometimes, looks can be deceiving. My mother waited for a moment, before initiating a conversation.
"Hi, my name is Mandy Wilson. I'm going to Hawaii! I've heard many good things about Hawaii. I can't wait till I get there."
For some unknown reason, the zebra cat my mother spoke to ‘stressed’ his left foreleg. He grimaced whenever he shifted his weight. Something was wrong. My mother instinctively knew that the injury was caused by severe trauma, and wasn't a birth defect. Her feline curiosity made her ask him how the problem came about. Animals, including cats, are very good behaviorists. We don't have to read books, articles, or other 'human sources' of literature, in order to sense mental or physical unease in another animal.
My mother wondered if the cat's owner had caused the trauma. Unfortunately, some dog and cat owners think their companion animals have no feelings, like automatons. Descartes, the philosopher, was one of those humans who sustained and expanded this terrible lie!
According to Descartes, animals were automatons, machinelike creatures. Animals respond to physical intrusion in an automatic manner. No pain, agony, or fear. Totally bogus!
Animals can't survive in the wild without having nerve receptors. It's a matter of common sense.
Also, we're not automatons! We're sentient beings; we're alive and feel physical and mental pain/discomfort!
Sadists who love to torment animals understand that their targets do feel pain. That's why the sadist gets off by performing the act. Otherwise, hitting an animal would be like hitting a block of cement.
My mother had to find out what had happened to the zebra cat.
"What's your name?" my mother asked.
"I'm Corey Jameson. I'm three years-old, sad, and somewhat apprehensive when it comes to making new 'human' friends. I've had a rough life. As you can see, I have a 'favored' foreleg. The pain used to be much worse.
In the past, my foreleg throbbed even when I didn't apply pressure on it. I thought I was going mad! Some physical wounds do heal over time; other wounds don't."
Apparently, Corey had been purchased by fraternity brothers from Gramson State College (GSC), in California. Corey was more or less a living trinket. His feelings were never taken into consideration. In addition, no plan was formed to care for Corey after the fraternity brothers graduated from GSC. The guys needed a temporary buddy, mascot, and a cutie-pie cat. It was Corey.
At the end of the academic year, or upon graduation, a school cat may be tossed out into the streets, or taken to the local shelter. Once in a blue moon, a 'lucky cat' ends up in the hands of a 'humane' student; but don't count on it.
Corey spent six weeks of his life in a pet store, trying desperately to ignore the countless gawking humans. After a cat has been gawked at several hundred times, it starts to become annoying. Especially when a cat's trying to take a nap while someone's tapping on the glass or cage bars.
It began on a sunny Saturday morning, in the month of July, a pet store worker opened Corey's cage door, then reached in and yanked him. Corey felt that something drastic was going to happen. Although he was hoping for a release, the destination was just as important. It would be worse for him to be sent to a 'vicious' owner.
A pet store worker asked two fraternity brothers from GSC to go to the cashier. A purchase was in the making.
"Please take Corey to the cashier," said the pet store worker.
Trouble was lurking. Corey 'scented' alcohol on the fraternity brothers' breath. This was a bad sign for a soon-tobe companion animal. Party animals don't make good pet owners.
The fraternity brothers walked over to the cashier's counter. The cashier was a young, attractive woman, who wore a short pony tail.
"I'm Lydia Shaw. We're glad you chose Eddie's Pet World for your purchase. You guys look like GSC students. Gramson’s a good school."
"I'm Jeff Dawson. This is my buddy, Andy Flynn. We're seniors in the Sociology department at Gramson. A cat in our fraternity house will liven up the atmosphere. We want a 'fleshy toy' to play with when we're down and out."
"I've been working at Eddie's Pet World for over a year now. The pay is low, but I'm still thankful to have a job.
I mean, it beats waitressing. Besides, I've met many people here. Well, not all of them were friendly. One guy who came here a couple of months ago wanted to purchase a lion. After telling him that we don't sell lions, he insisted on speaking to the pet store owner. Luckily, the owner was in the storage room doing inventory work.
I called the owner, but he didn't come. So, the guy decided to go back to the storage room. I braced myself for a terrible argument.
To make a long story short, the guy ended up speaking to the owner for roughly fifteen minutes. Then, I got the shock of my life. Both men exited the storage room together, with smiles on their faces. It was like they'd made a secret deal. As of that moment, I lost all respect for the owner. Please, don't tell anyone that 'I' told you this story. Otherwise, I'll be fired on the spot," whispered Lydia.
"Well, we must return to the fraternity house. Otherwise, we'll miss the big party. We want to surprise our friends with this cute cat. Here's what we owe you," said Jeff.
"Just give me a second, so I can give you back your change. Gosh, it's really nice to see college students around here. I'm returning to school next year. With no promotion prospects, it's the only thing I can do," said Lydia.
As soon as the 'cat sale' went through, Jeff's paled, then reddened. He wanted something else. What was it?
"Please, give me a leash. I don't want this cat to run away or to get lost. Worse yet, I don't want to buy another cat," said Jeff.
Lydia motioned Jeff and Andy to stay. After taking a deep breath, she went to the back of the pet store, and then removed a leash from a peg board.
Afterwards, Lydia returned with the leash in her hand. She handed the leash to Jeff. Then, she hoisted an animal carrier that was located underneath the counter.
Lydia placed the animal carrier on the counter. Afterwards, she gently pulled Corey from Jeff's hands, and then placed him inside the animal carrier.
As soon as Lydia closed the animal carrier door, Corey cringed. He realized that his lifeline had been drastically altered for the worse.
Andy and Jeff were muscular jocks. In fact, they were stars of the GSC football team. With good looks, money, and a cat, it looked like they had it all.
Andy swiped the leash from Jeff's hand and waved it in front of the animal carrier. Corey didn't like that.
Cats don't like to be leashed. They love to roam around, unfettered. Leash-free is the best way. Because Corey was inside an animal carrier, there was nothing he could do but wallow in agony.
The animal carrier stunk. Obviously used many times before, it had three fecal smears and sticky urine inside it. No wonder, Lydia gave the animal carrier away for free.
"I felt sorry for myself, and every single cat that'd ever been placed inside that horrendous animal carrier," said Corey.
Too many cats had done their thing inside that stinking prison hole! Neither Lydia, nor the buyers seemed to give a damn. Corey's best interests weren't part of the 'sales equation'.
Jeff and Andy thanked Lydia for being so kind and helpful. In turn, she thanked them for being good customers.
Jeff and Andy left the pet store with a new 'kitty friend'. Andy held the animal carrier firmly. A drop could be disastrous for Corey. They'd have to purchase another cat.
"Hurry- up!" commanded Jeff.
"Come on, Jeff! Don't ruin our day. We'll get to the fraternity party. Then, we can binge drink all day long. Well, until we puke our brains out, or pass out. Whichever happens one occurs first. We've got plenty of time. Actually, we can continue drinking inside your car. Remember, we've got a giant cooler in the back. We'll invite our new friend to our miniparty," said Andy.
"Please, don't talk about me as though I'm not here! My name is Corey Jameson, and I demand to be spoken to, and about, in person!"
Neither Jeff, nor Andy, took Corey seriously. They glanced at him with contempt, continuing their trek to the fraternity party.
Jeff and Andy walked through the mall, gawking at any female they thought was attractive. A short while later, they exited The Valley Mall, then headed straight to Jeff's car.
"Andy, in what section did I park my car in?" asked Jeff.
"You parked your car in Section D," responded Andy.
Andy stopped walking, scanned the parking lot, and then pulled out a bottle of 80 proof of Vodka. It was only half full. It was bad enough that Corey already scented booze on Andy's breath. Now, Andy was going to drink some more Vodka. What next?
"Jeff, let's have a few swigs from this precious water. Come on, we'll do it really fast. Nobody's going to see us," whispered Andy.
Jeff and Andy each took several quick swigs of Vodka. Corey was worried that they'd try to force him to drink some of the devil water.
Because Jeff and Andy already had booze in their systems, the swigs they took brought them ever so closer to a drunken stupor.
Corey was terrified. Too bad, he was locked inside an animal carrier.
As Jeff and Andy continued their trek to the car, a mall security officer pulled his van in front of their path. Andy was so scared, he let out gas. Although the situation was tense, his fart added a touch of humor.
"I saw you drinking that booze! I've got my 'zoom binoculars' right here in my hands! Listen, I can see a freaking ant poop on the moon.
Now, you better give me that stinking bottle, so I can finish it off for you. Unless, you want me to call the police and have you taken in for public intoxication.
The security guard got 'his bottle', and then drove off. Although it was a shameful incident, Corey was glad the police weren't involved.
Andy finally remembered exactly where Jeff had parked his car.
"Jeff, you parked your car in a residential area! Man, we have to cross Falcon Boulevard!" exclaimed Andy. Corey understood that his 'newfound friends' were now full of booze. At the moment, his friends were too inebriated to listen to good advice.
Jeff and Andy crossed Falcon Boulevard. Shockingly, while crossing Falcon Boulevard, a driver in a blue Corvette almost ran them over! It wasn't the driver's fault. Jeff and Andy shuffled their feet while crossing Falcon Boulevard.
Further- more, they didn't look left or right before crossing the street. That's totally dangerous!
"Did you see that creep? Why did he try to run us over? This is outrageous! In this day and age, drivers don't respect pedestrians!" shouted Andy.
Indeed, if the blue Corvette had struck them, there would've been serious consequences. Most humans know that drunk driving is dangerous. But, do they know that 'drunk walking' is also dangerous?
Humans who walk around drunk increase their chances of being struck by an automobile. Likewise, felines who are high on catnip face the same problem. However, in the case of cats, they can also be attacked or killed by an enemy.
Inebriated humans look very awkward. Sometimes, they try to behave like they're sober. Their breath is a dead giveaway. Sometimes, booze smells like an unusual brand of cologne. I mean, before the bad breath or puke sets in.
Hangover, or barf breath, stinks like all hell! Cats don't like it when humans with bad breath kiss them, or get too close to them. No wonder, cats often lash out at their human owners.
I often wonder what the stats are for animals killed in alcohol-related accidents. Road kill maims, kills, and orphans, millions of animals throughout the world; every single year. The main causes of road kill are speeding, drunk driving, not paying attention (human or animal), or the moronic driver didn't notice the gigantic grizzly bear crossing the street. Smaller animals are more difficult to notice. They run across the street, like a rodent being chased by a larger predator.
Some drivers defy animal crossing signs. The animals who'd died in road kill were only trying to get from Point A to Point B. That's not the worst of it. A minority of drivers love to strike animals with their automobile. They think it's really funny to see an animal demolished by a moving vehicle. Many 'struck' animals don't die immediately. They have to linger along, enduring pain, agony, and without any defense against the elements.
My mother told me a story about a cruel driver in Montreal. He was driving in a side street then accelerated as soon as he saw a group of pigeons eating. He ended up 'squishing' a half-adozen pigeons. Really funny!
Jeff entered his Mustang with pomp and arrogance. Andrew opened the hatch, and then placed my mother's animal carrier inside. After taking a deep breath, he closed the hatch, and then entered the Mustang. As soon as both doors were closed, Corey got the jitters.
"I'm such a handsome guy. No woman or girl could ever resist me. I'm tall, handsome, rich, athletic, intelligent, and very popular. What else can I ask for?" asked Jeff.
Corey noticed that one of the car windows was slightly ajar. Indeed it was a foolish mistake. A professional car thief could've easily snatched the Mustang. Maybe, it would've been better if it had happened.
Jeff turned on the ignition, then the radio. The sound of oldies rock music was a temporarily distraction for Corey. The DJ identified the station as Oldies 105 FM, located in Gramson, California. Although the music was nice, the volume was a bit too high.
Luckily, Jeff and Andy thought likewise. Jeff turned down the volume of the music to a normal level. Then, he began his drive back to the fraternity house. Corey wasn't sure if they were going to make it to the fraternity house alive.
Jeff and Andrew snatched one beer after another, from the cooler. About twenty minutes into the drive, Jeff turned left, into a dirt road. Corey didn't know what to think of it.
The answer arrived in a jiffy. Jeff pulled over near a forested area, and then turned off the ignition.
"Corey, this is your initiation!" exclaimed Jeff.
"What the hell are you guys talking about?" asked Corey.
"You're not leaving this spot until you party with us! We'll give you plenty of time to make up your mind. If you say 'no', we'll dump you here, so the predators can get you. If, however, you say yes, you can become our fiend. In that case, we will conditionally love you.
After an hour of waiting, Corey caved in. He began with beer, then wine, then hard liquor. At first, Corey thought that the taste was horrible. However, after he became tipsy, the horrible taste faded away. Jeff and Andy began to pass Corey little shots of booze. This was a set-up for the real thing; booze and dope.
This was the incident that began Corey's descent into alcohol and drugs. Corey would soon become a regular drinker and smoker of dope. At the moment, he had no idea what his so-called friends were inducing him into.
After the party ended, Jeff, Andy, and Corey, dozed off for a few hours. Upon awakening, Jeff resumed his drive back to the fraternity house. They'd wasted much time near the forest. As such, Jeff drove his Mustang a bit faster than he should have.
"Drinking, women, and playing around are fun activities. This is what college is all about. Little studying, and lots of partying," said Andrew.
While Jeff was driving, he began to converse with Andy about Corey. They spoke about Corey as though he wasn't there. Corey didn't like that! It was a direct insult to his selfesteem. When Jeff noticed that Corey was getting a bit bored, he offered Corey a shot of Whiskey. Corey couldn't drink anymore.
After Jeff drank the shot of Whiskey, he lit-up a joint. Mind you, he was driving. The interior of the Mustang 'smelled' like alcohol and marijuana. Corey began to have breathing difficulties.
Corey wanted to tell Jeff and Andrew to grow up and be considerate of the other passenger in the car. But, Corey was apprehensive. He had no idea of knowing how they'd react to his blunt statement. So, he stayed quiet.
After twenty minutes on the road, Jeff took a right on Maple Street, and then headed due west. Maple Street was aligned with beautiful homes and trees. Indeed, they were driving through an 'uppity neighborhood'. Corey ‘fantasized’ about living in this kind of neighborhood. If he'd only known what was in store for him.
Now, they were only several blocks away from the fraternity house. That was good news for Corey. Jeff's driving was becoming a bit too awkward for Corey.
It was apparent that Jeff and Andy were going to be terrible pet owners. Corey braced himself for a possible getaway. As they say, the best time to escape is now. Don't wait until you're used to the routine of being a humans' kitty.
Andrew and Jeff suspected that Corey was pondering about an escape attempt. Without any warning, Jeff pulled over into the curb. Then, he reached inside his giant cooler, and pulled out three 'mini-bottles' of Jack Daniels.
In an act of utter brutality, Jeff grabbed Corey by the scruff with his left hand, and twisted the cap off each minibottle with his teeth. Then, Jeff shoved the opening of the mini-bottle deep into Corey's mouth.
Corey was forced to drink the contents of the three minibottles. By the time he was done, there wasn't a single drop of Jack Daniels in sight.
Expectedly, Corey was now totally wasted. Jeff and Andy told Corey that he was an incredible cat. That no cat in the whole world could ever out drink him. Wow, like that was a consolation.
Sensing more defiance from Corey, Jeff poured Tequila into a shot glass. Afterwards, he handed the shot glass to Andy. Jeff then removed a Tequila worm from the bottle that it was encased in.
Jeff grinned, and then shoved the Tequila worm into Corey's mouth. As if that wasn't enough, he then made Corey drink the Tequila Corey was now in a zombie-like state. Any more drinks would result in instant death.
Jeff parked his Mustang in front of the fraternity house, then, he turned off the ignition and the radio.
Four powerful speakers were strewn on the front lawn of the fraternity house, causing the sound of 'Rock' music to engulf the entire block.
A handsome fraternity brother approached the Mustang, and grinned at Jeff and Andrew. Meanwhile, Corey was puking his brains out.
"How was the trip?" asked the fraternity brother.
"Well, everything went fine. I'm glad we made it back in time. Now it's time to do some heavy duty partying! Look, Corey's joined us. Maybe, we'll make him an honorary member of our fraternity," said Jeff.
"Look, guys, don't you think you've had enough to drink for now. Your kitty's vomiting big times.
Come on, guys! You shouldn't give booze to a cat! Damn! He's a cat!" shouted the fraternity brother.
Trouble began as soon as Jeff and Andrew exited the Mustang. Jeff shouted obscenities at the fraternity brother. Apparently, Jeff thought he owned Corey, inside and out. This young man was a good example of what a fraternity brother should be like. The vast majority of fraternity brother and sorority sisters are good. It's the bad ones like Jeff and Andy who give these organizations a black eye, every-so-often.
The fraternity brother called several of his GSC friends to the scene. It looked like Corey was going to be saved after all. Or, did it?
Unfortunately, the 'friends' were preoccupied with their partying.
"Come on, Jeff. We're on the same team, literally. The GSC ball players are comrades. Please, take it easy on that little kitty. He's not guilty of any crime, or any wrong-doing," said the fraternity brother.
“Hey! Mind your own freaking business! Corey's mine! He belongs to me! Inside and out!" shouted Jeff.
Corey understood that he'd been turned into a slab-ofproperty. Technically, he was Jeff's property. Any escape attempt by Corey would have to be successful, or else, he'd have to suffer the consequences. No doubt, Jeff would take any escape attempt personally. For the time being, Corey decided to play it safe.
Jeff carried Corey's animal carrier through the lawn, then into the fraternity house. Several individuals gawked at Corey. They were awed. Corey was an incredibly cute cat.
A sorority sister approached Jeff, and then inquired about Corey. She was friendly, inside and out. Cats enjoy the company of friendly humans. As long as they don't bother them while they're napping, daydreaming, or hunting.
"Wow! Your cat's incredibly cute! Is 'she' tame? Can I pet 'her'? Is 'she' tamed trained? Can I be 'her' friend?" asked the sorority sister.
Some humans assume that all cats are females. I really don't blame them. Cats are downright cute and streamlined. We're so pretty, it's often difficult to distinguish between a male and a female. I mean, unless you look 'down there'.
“Listen, Bambi! My cat's a guy! I'd never purchase a female cat! I want a tough cat! I don’t want a freaking weakling cat who'll want me to cuddle her so softly and tenderly," answered Jeff.
Jeff chuckled then proceeded to walk to the kitchen. The scent of alcohol, marijuana, semen, sweat, and vomit, were in the air.
Corey couldn't handle the stench anymore. He vomited his brains out, with several gigantic heaves. Now, there was no trace of alcohol in his stomach. But, he had more than enough of it in his digestive system and bloodstream.
Jeff peered inside the animal carrier, because he thought that it was funny seeing a cat puke his brains out. Jeff wanted Corey to become a full-fledged party animal.
As soon as Jeff removed Corey from the animal carrier, a small crowd converged upon Corey. Lucky for Corey, he'd stopped puking.
It's amazing how many people like cats. Woe unto those creeps who hate us. Cats should always be on the alert for sadistic humans. Some humans use deceit and cunning in order to lower a cat's guard. Then, they move in for the attack.
I hate to say this, but, sometimes cats do behave like humans. Catnip sends some cats into a euphoric state, or skid row.
Even large cats, like jaguars, aren't immune to 'jungle drugs'. I'd seriously warn any cat against the use of any psychotropic drug. A cat's brain can be literally destroyed by the recreational and addicting drugs that some humans use. I can't imagine what would happen to a cat that used crack cocaine, cocaine, or LSD.
Euphoria is not to be sought out in the wild. The wild knows no mercy. Be aware, or be killed. That's the saying in the wildlife community.
From within the crowd, a beautiful black-haired, blue/green-eyed, female extended her hand to Corey. Although they were both drunk, the love emanating from each of them was enormous. It appeared as though they were meant to be friends.
"My name is Cynthia Corbett and I really love cats. Especially cute ones like you. It's a great pleasure to meet you. Did you know that having a feline 'friend' can lower a person's pulse and blood pressure? Really!
Kitty, you're the star of this fraternity party. As a new resident in this fraternity house, you're entitled to good food, living quarters, security, and much love. Why, I already feel better just looking at you!
Don't be afraid. I just want to pet you between your ears."
Cynthia gently pulled Corey from Jeff's hands, and then began to pet him between the ears. Without even waiting a second, Jeff told Cynthia that Corey was his, and absolutely nobody else's. Jeff described Corey as a wild, intelligent cat, who needed to be tamed.
Corey didn't like the use of the word 'tamed'. It made him feel like a big cat in a circus. More and more, it seemed like Jeff was going to be a needle in Corey's life. Corey would have to keep an observant eye on Jeff.
Although Corey liked the attention he was getting from the people in the small crowd, a short while later, he developed stimulus overload. A cat can only withstand a certain level of gawking. Cats, like people and other animals, don't like to be overwhelmed by stimuli. It's worse, when the people are wasted.
In an act of unjustifiable aggression, Jeff yanked Corey out of Cynthia's arms, thereby startling her. But, there was a bit more to it than just being startled. Was Cynthia afraid of Jeff? Corey would soon get his answer.
"You stinking bitch! This is my freaking cat! You can't take him away from me! No way, Cynthia!" shouted Jeff.
Everyone in the immediate vicinity froze in silence. Afterwards, they went back to what they were doing. No one appeared surprised by Jeff's behavior. Even about his aggressiveness towards Cynthia.
Apparently, Jeff had a reputation of being overly possessive with 'his' properties. Corey would soon find out the extent of Jeff's possessiveness.
Cynthia wasn't going to take it lying down. Not for the moment.
"Jeff, you need to control your temper! You don't have the right to speak to me, is lovely cat in that tone! Furthermore, don't you ever call me a bitch! And, don't call him a freaking cat, either! Jeff, I've had it with you and your buddies!" shouted Cynthia.
It was now certain to Corey that the two combatants had locked horns before. Somehow, it appeared as though this conflict was going to escalate.
Later, a small crowd formed around the scene. A few individuals chuckled after Cynthia uttered her last word. The crowd was impressed by Cynthia's defiance and valor. Jeff, on the other hand, wasn't. Corey looked deep into Jeff's eyes. Jeff had vengeance, anger, and sadism in his heart. Cynthia would have to watch her step thereafter.
"Cynthia, you better not cross me again! Otherwise, you'll be very sorry!" shouted Jeff.
Jeff turned, and then walked away with Corey in his arms. He stopped near a large grandfather clock, took notice of the time, and then continued walking. He ended up flopping onto a reclining chair.
Jeff was still thinking about 'embroiled' about Cynthia. He clinched his fists, and then eyed her intently. From the expression on his face, it appeared as though he was planning a terrible retaliation.
Corey wanted to scratch and bite Jeff. But, he'd need a getaway plan to do that. Corey understood that his new 'friends' were a liability for him, rather than an asset. Unfortunately, he was still inebriated. There would be no escape attempt.
"Jeff, I don't want you to hold me in your arms. I want to go over there. I want to be with Cynthia. I promise to return in a short while," mumbled Corey.
Jeff glared at Corey, and then let him go. He knew that Corey couldn't escape.
Corey approached a group of men and women who were conversing about life and school. Of course, Cynthia was amongst them.
"Cynthia, if you really want to be an attorney, hit the books really hard. There's no way around it. My uncle dropped out of undergrad school because he was a party animal. Now, he's a sanitation engineer (janitor) at a high school in
Philadelphia," said a pretty blond.
Thanks for the good advice. I don't plan on boozing it up for the rest of my life. I don't like what it's doing to my body, or my mind. I'm far behind in my studies. Starting from next week, I shall hit the books really hard. At any cost!" exclaimed Cynthia.
The men and women conversed for roughly fifteen minutes. Corey found it challenging to listen intently. The booze and marijuana in his system had to be flushed out.
Corey told Cynthia that he was needed to rest-up on a sofa chair nearby.
A minute later, Corey was sound asleep. He stayed that way for several hours.
Upon awakening, Corey felt a throbbing hangover. So, he went to the kitchen and convinced one of the party animals to give him a bottle of water.
Corey rested the bottle of water onto the kitchen floor, and then he carefully twisted the cap off. Afterwards, he consumed as much water as his body could possible accept, without overflowing.
After partially re-hydrating himself, Corey began his walk back to the general congregation. On his way there, he saw Jeff snoozing on a sofa.
Although Corey didn't care much for Jeff, he wanted to give him another chance at being a friend. He carefully approached Jeff, and then made four failed attempts at leaping onto his chest. Luckily, the fifth attempt was successful.
Corey rested on Jeff's chest. The inhaling/exhaling rhythm of Jeff's diaphragm made Corey sleepy. He closed his eyes for an hour.
As soon as Jeff awakened, Corey leaped onto the carpet. Then, he took several steps away from the sofa. Jeff grudgingly got up, then walked to the staircase and slowly ascended it, pulling his body up with the hand that was grasping the rail.
Corey followed, but was abruptly stopped by three women. They approached Corey, and then began to pet his back.
Cynthia arrived at the scene in an inebriated state. After grinning at the small crowd, she petted Corey.
"Corey, I had to see you again! I think you and I have a special human-animal connection. Maybe, we're destined to be best friends. You can count on me if you're ever in trouble. You're such an awesome cat. Anyone who has a cat friend like you is very lucky. You're better than most of the 'males' that I've met in my short life," said Cynthia.
Corey thanked Cynthia then he brushed the side of his head against her ankles. Although Corey's words didn't come out right, his mannerisms conveyed his pleasure with Cynthia. In effect, he was telling her that he loved her.
Being the only cat in the fraternity house, Corey needed someone to love. I mean, he didn't want to have a firecracker shoved up his anus by a group of young men.
Corey had heard numerous stories about cats that were tormented by humans.
Witch/cat hunts, Halloween, and the dreaded Cat Wednesday, are only a few problems that cats have had to endure in their history with humanity.
Cynthia's eyes shined like beautiful stars. Corey believed that Cynthia would be an incredible person some day. Humans who have much love for cats are a step above their brethren.
While Cynthia and Corey were together, they received a creepy intruder. It was none other than Jeff.
Cynthia reminded Jeff that part of the money used to purchase Corey came from the sorority treasury. Jeff didn't use any of 'his money' to purchase Corey. So, if push came to shove, Cynthia could lodge an official complaint with the GSC Student Union.
Cynthia wouldn’t tolerate any abuse of Corey. In fact, she had a sudden change of tactics. It appeared as though she too, was becoming obsessed with Corey.
"Jeff, grant me ownership of Corey! He needs someone who'll love him dearly and treat him like a star. I'm the person to do that! Cats have always been a big part of my.
When I was a child, I use to walk around the neighborhood in search of a cat to play with. I did this every single day, even on holidays. Lucky for me, I made many cat friends.
Unfortunately, my lucky streak didn't last too long. My childhood was full of domicile changes.
I loved each and every one of those cats! Male and female! Please, give me ownership of Corey!" shouted Cynthia.
"Come on, Cynthia! If you know what's good for you, you'll relent! I'm telling you, bitch, relent! I own Corey, inside and out. Nothing terrible will happen to him!" shouted Jeff.
Corey didn't believe a single word that came out of Jeff's mouth. Jeff was a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde character.
Thereafter, Corey had to be on the alert. He felt that someone was planning on doing him wrong. He just didn't exactly know who, or when.
As soon as Cynthia had Corey in her arms she walked over to the recreation room. For the time being, it was the best room in the fraternity house.
Upon entering the recreation room, Cynthia was greeted by five of her friends. Two of them were smoking dope. The other three were drinking wine coolers.
Cynthia allowed her friends to pet Corey, but only for a short while. Corey hadn't completely recovered from the induced drinking/doping incident. He still had some alcohol and dope in his system. Not to mention, a weak, but ever present hangover.
A table nearby was strewn with plastic beer cups and shots of Schnapps, Bacardi, Gin, and Vodka.
The lure of free drinks was too much for Cynthia. After pondering about what to do, Cynthia placed Corey into the hands of a three hundred pound football player. The guy was big, meanlooking, and was as hairy as Bigfoot. Surprisingly, he was very kind and sweet to Corey. He smiled at Corey, and held him gently in his arms. If Corey had thumbs, one of them would've been placed inside his own mouth. I mean, the big guy caused Corey to regress back to 'kitten hood'. It goes to show you even big guys can be kind and sweet to cats.
Cynthia snatched two shot glasses of peppermint Schnapps then gulped them down. Thereafter, she continued to drink- up-astorm. It didn't take long for her to become 'extremely intoxicated'.
To make matters worse, Jeff and two of his buddies entered the recreation room. The three young men joined Cynthia in her drinking escapade.
Jeff winked at his friends then put on a fake smile. There was evil in Jeff's eyes. Jeff's fake smile was uglier than sin.
When Cynthia 'slurred' that she'd had enough booze, Jeff and his friends convinced her to have another shot of peppermint Schnapps for good luck. After she drank the shot of peppermint Schnapps, one of Jeff's buddies handed her two more shots, for sorority sake. She gulped both shots, and then waved her hand in the air; indicating that she'd had enough.
Cynthia was out of it. Gradually losing her ability to talk, walk, and compose herself, she needed someone trustworthy to help her. Jeff winked at his buddies again, and then motioned them to go upstairs. They left, immediately.
Afterwards, Jeff told Cynthia that he'd be waiting for her upstairs.
"What? Why do you want me to go upstairs with you? I'm about to pass out. I won't be good company. Anyhow, I just want to crash-out on sofa.
And, maybe I don't want to be with you. Please, just go away," mumbled Cynthia.
The effects of Cynthia's drinking were now very apparent. Soon, she'd behave like a darted animal. But, there was something a bit more sinister about this. Corey smelled something terrifying underneath all of the booze and 'mainstream drugs'. For the time being, he kept quiet. This was the mistake of his life.
"Come on, baby. I'm sorry. I mean ... come on, Cynthia. Look, I'm going up to room number twenty six. You know where it's at. Please, trust me. We're buddies, aren't we?
Before you go, have a shot of Bourbon, for school's sake," requested Jeff.
Incredibly, Cynthia received a quick boost of energy. Although it was short-lived, she conveyed her feelings quite well.
"LISTEN, NO MEANS NO! I don't want any more booze! Leave me alone!" shouted Cynthia.
It certainly was amazing how Cynthia was able to shout, considering her drunken state. I think she was so pissed off at Jeff nothing could've prevented her from shouting at him. Anyway, her shouting was to no avail.
Jeff apologized to Cynthia then persuaded her to have just one last gulp of beer. She obliged him on the condition that he'd no longer pester her about drinking. Jeff agreed. Cynthia’s eyes were glassy, and she began to see double. Not a good sign for a lone woman at a big party.
Cynthia watched Jeff walk away then she fell back onto the sofa. Surprisingly, she tried to grab a shot of Vodka. Luckily, she couldn't grasp it. It fell onto the carpet. The booze in her system had dug-in deeply.
After being out cold for an hour, Cynthia awakened, got up, then staggered to the staircase. Considering there were still many people in the fraternity house, someone should have come to her aid. Instead, what she got were snickers and fingerpointing. One woman called her a little harlot.
Suspecting trouble, Corey leaped off the big football player's chest, and then ran to Cynthia. Now, Corey was heading towards sobriety. He understood that his friend was in need of assistance. As soon as he got to within a foot of Cynthia, he fell on his side. It wasn't that he was still wasted. Corey was in need of nutrition. He'd been drained by all of the partying and meal-missing.
Corey was out cold for a few minutes. As soon as he came to, the desire to protect Cynthia became overwhelming. He was willing to risk life and limb to protect her.
Corey sensed that Cynthia was a few breaths away from barfing. She had a vomit-look on her face.
The big football player tried to call Corey back. Fortunately, his attempts were futile. It was now 2 A.M., and the party animals were starting to leave the fraternity house. Corey heard many goodbyes from the party animals.
Cynthia staggered up the stairs, pulling herself up by grasping the rail with both hands. She fell four times, but got up each time. As soon as she was on the second floor, she turned right, and then headed for the restroom.
Upon entering the restroom, Cynthia loosened her pants then slammed the door shut.
Corey was on her trail. He placed his right ear against the restroom door. Corey wasn't spying on Cynthia. He was only being a loving/caring cat. I would've done the same thing. What about you?
Corey heard Cynthia barfing and dry heaving; on and off, for several minutes. In order to comfort her Corey told Cynthia that everything was going to be all right. Understandably, Cynthia was too wasted to have completely understood what Corey had said.
Corey didn't know this at the time, but, when a person's barfing, the last thing he/she needs is a pep talk. If you ever see someone barfing, wait until the 'episode' is over, before opening up a conversation. Actually, look carefully to see if the person's in the mood to converse. If not, don't say a word!
As soon as Cynthia's barfing episode ended, she began to mumble a story about a cat that she'd once befriended as a child.
Corey listened intently to Cynthia's mumblings. By the end of her mini-story, Corey understood why Cynthia would always need a cat friend. Apparently, one of her childhood cat friends was run over by a car. She never got over it.
Corey could hear Cynthia crying and sniffling. It was a sad story. But, there was a more important issue at hand. Cynthia had to sober-up. Then, she had to start hitting the books really hard. Not to mention, get away from those creeps, especially Jeff!
Often times, the death of a childhood animal friend comes back to haunt a person. The right cue can bring back the memory of a long lost animal. In this case, Corey was the cue. No wonder, Cynthia adored him.
Corey tried to fight off the heavy tears that were pouring down his cheeks. Being a male can sometimes be difficult. Even for male felines.
Corey waited patiently for Cynthia to exit the restroom. He didn't know what to expect. Would she walk out, or crawl out?
A short while later, Cynthia slowly opened the restroom door, then staggered out. Corey noticed her bloodshot eyes, wobbly demeanor, and airhead look. Indeed, Corey was very worried about Cynthia.
Thankfully, Corey was beginning to regain his composure. He was intent on never being forced to consume anything that he didn't want to.
“Corey, I love you. You're the most adorable kitty in the whole world,” mumbled Cynthia.
In response, Corey leaped onto Cynthia's chest. She almost fell back from the force of the impact. After realizing his mistake, Corey released his grip, turned his head then leaped onto the carpet. Afterwards, Corey rubbed his body against Cynthia's ankles.
Cynthia fell onto the carpet, almost smothering Corey in the process. She was smashed. Most of the party animals had left the fraternity house.
While Cynthia was strewn across the carpet, Jeff exited room number twenty six. As soon as he saw Cynthia, his demeanor 'turned wicked'. I mean, he had a very evil expression on his face, and his mannerisms were hostile-looking. You had to be there to see it.
Corey had a strong urge to attack Jeff, but he held himself back. Corey was a fair cat. He'd have to wait until Jeff tried something wicked against Cynthia. If so, it would call for a swift response.
Jeff had a bottle of booze-pop in his hand. He leaned over then lifted Corey off the carpet with his free hand. Jeff took a swig from his bottle then lowered his arm to his waist. As soon as he began to speak, the scent of alcohol beneath the pop engulfed the air. Believe me, pop won't mask the scent of alcohol.
Jeff burped then grinned. Afterwards, he gently placed his bottle on the carpet. Then, he tugged on Corey's tail, in order to tease him. Tail tugging is outright painful and irritating! Cats don't like it when people 'tug' their tails. A cat's tail is a 'special body-part' that shouldn't be touched, unless for medical reasons. I'll repeat what I said, but in a more direct manner: NEVER TOUCH, OR HOLD A CAT'S TAIL! It pisses them off!
Rightfully, Corey became infuriated. In a knee-jerk response, Corey scratched Jeff's hand.
Jeff, in turn, shouted obscenities at Corey. Then, he tossed Corey onto the carpet. Corey didn't feel like getting into a physical confrontation with anyone because his best friend in the whole world was strewn across a carpet, in a semiconscious state. Cynthia's well-being was more important than fighting off Jeff.
Animals have a remarkable ability to sense sickness and abnormality. It’s a beautiful survival mechanism that's often used in the wild.
Jeff was a rotten apple. For the time being, Corey couldn't have cared less why Jeff was like that. Everyone has problems. If every living creature on this planet suddenly took out their 'frustrations' and 'qualms' on others, we'd face imminent extinction! I'm not kidding!
"Jeff wasn't a child. He was a young man. He had only himself to blame for his cruel attitude and behavior," said Corey.
Aside from alcohol, Corey scented marijuana and cocaine on Jeff's person. Jeff was a burnout, in the literal sense. It was a shame he didn't use his strengths and talents for good.
Jeff was shocked how Corey could even consider scratching him. Well, what did he expect?

Meanwhile, the last major clique left the fraternity house. Now, there were perhaps a few scattered individuals, here and there. Others would be leaving shortly.

Corey glanced up at a beautiful blue clock on the wall. The clock read 3:30 A.M. When he lowered his head, he saw Andrew and another individual approaching. Corey was bared his teeth and claws. Andrew grinned at Jeff, then turned back to face Corey. Something was up.

"Corey, I just want to carry you over my head, to see something. Can I?" asked Andrew.
Corey instinctively felt that something was wrong, but tried to brush it off. He allowed Andrew to hoist him high into the air. Now, Andrew's face was within an inch of Corey's anus. Too close for comfort! A millimeter more and Corey would've 'squirted' and 'pooped' on Andrew's face.
"Yep, he's a male!" He's a real stud! We had to make sure!" exclaimed Andrew.
As soon as Andrew put Corey down, Andrew and his friends burst into a group guffaw. Their laughter could've annoyed the dead. Corey understood that Jeff and his inner circle were trying to behave like lions. Naturally, they needed a 'male' feline to be their buddy and mascot.
Andrew sat down on the carpet then smoked a joint.
Meanwhile, the individual who was with him went downstairs. Andrew waited until he'd had three drags before calling out to another friend. A short while later a fat fraternity brother exited room number twenty two. He had a lit joint in his hand. He approached Andrew, then, whispered something to him.
Andrew grinned then took a long look at Jeff. Afterwards, he told the fat fraternity brother to take a 'rough hold' of Corey. Corey was taken by surprise. Unable to defend himself, he loosened up.
A 'rough hold' on a cat is basically a good scruff hold. The cat is immobilized and defenseless.
As soon as Corey was immobilized, Andrew monitored Corey's breathing. He waited until Corey exhaled before he covered his mouth and nose with the palm of his hand. Corey was gasping for air. Unable to breath, he made a desperate attempt at clawing Andrew's hand. It was to no avail.
As soon as Corey was on the verge of passing out, Andrew placed a joint near Corey's mouth. Afterwards, the fat fraternity brother quickly parted his index finger from his middle finger. This left a tiny opening for Corey to breath. But, before Corey could gasp for air, the fat fraternity brother shoved the lit joint into Corey's mouth.
In effect, Corey inhaled a very large quantity of marijuana smoke. Considering he still had a little bit of booze and marijuana in his system it was no wonder that he fell onto his side.
By the time Corey came to, his 'tormentors' were gone. Now, Corey was on the war path. He followed Andrew's trail using his acute feline senses. Although his senses were partially blunted because of the drugs in his system, Corey was still able to locate Andrew.
Corey wobbled down the stairs then headed to the kitchen. As soon as he saw Andrew, he slowly approached him then leaped onto his chest.
Corey clobbered Andrew across the face, several times. Andrew went down for the long count. Corey couldn't have cared less about Andrew's fate. I didn't blame him.
Corey left the kitchen then proceeded to go upstairs. He didn't want to stay around for too long. He had more important business to attend to. He had to find his best friend, Cynthia Corbett
Although Corey’s story was interesting, I convinced him that it was time to sleep. We'd proceed after resting-up. Remember, even incredible cats need to rest.
A few hours later, Corey and I ate the slop that was placed in our cages. Then, it was back to Corey's story.
Corey sniffed Cynthia's trail, finding her in room number twenty six. Cynthia was naked, semi-conscious, and on a bed.
No doubt, the bed that Cynthia was lying on belonged to a jerk.
Corey knew that someone had disrobed Cynthia, without her permission. Although Corey smelled semen and vaginal fluid, he wasn't quite certain what had happened. But, he did remember that Jeff and a friend were sitting in the far end of the room, with big grins on their faces. Corey would have to live with party animals for a longer time to truly understand their behavior.
Strangely, Jeff, Andrew, and another fraternity brother, were naked. Their 'cannons' were erect.
Corey left room number twenty six then headed straight to the restroom. Once inside, he leaped onto the toilet's rim then puked his brains out. Afterwards, he flushed the toilet. The rest is history.
Corey would soon know how evil some humans could become. Their level of evil can never be equaled by any animal; pure and simple.

At the start of the fall semester, the STUDLY BOYS FRATERNITY brothers made Corey an 'honorary' member of the fraternity. Corey was flattered to be part of the fraternity, but wondered if there were any strings attached.

The flattery couldn't erase the bigger problems at hand. Corey had now become a willing party animal. He was addicted to alcohol, and was used to smoking marijuana on a regular basis. Corey also experimented with other drugs. He was now using drugs because he had to.

Corey was surrounded by humans, and never by his own kind. In fact, during his stay at the fraternity house, he never saw any animals, whatsoever.

Although Corey was glad to be an honorary fraternity member, his other problems paled any positive feelings caused by his fraternity membership.

Because many of Corey's human friends often behaved like beasts, it was only a matter of time before something terrible went wrong.

The dreaded day finally arrived. It was a cool Saturday evening, in the month of December.
Finals were over. It was Christmas break. Naturally, a 'mega party' was called for. Numerous students, the vast majority of them not belonging to a fraternity or a sorority, converged on the 'mega party' from all across California. GSC had two graduation ceremonies each year; one in May, the other in December.
The 'mega party' was reserved for individuals who wanted to party, and party some more.
On that dreaded evening, the entire block was engulfed with hundreds of party animals. More and more people continued to arrive throughout the evening. Corey roamed the interior of the fraternity house, desperately searching for a resting place, and a few shots of booze.
“Too many drunkards, burnouts, and hell-raisers, were conversing onto GSC. Although most GSC students were of high moral character, this party was an invitation to the rabble of California.
This was the first time that Corey seriously contemplated escaping. He understood that his booze and drug habits weren't getting any better. Furthermore, he needed a female in his life.
A ‘she cat’, that is. No human could ever satisfy this special need of his. No matter how many times a human kissed and petted him.
After failing to find a resting place, Corey went upstairs for a breather. As soon as Corey got to the second floor, he heard the faint voices of a small group of young men emanating from room number twenty six. Cats have a good auditory sense, but certainly not as good as the dogs' auditory sense.
Although Corey suspected that something heinous was happening in room number twenty six, he had to get his first 'drinks' of the evening. He decided to descend the staircase then head for the kitchen.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, a young woman named Ellen placed three shots of pure Vodka on the kitchen floor. The shots were big and very potent. Corey licked off all of the Vodka in sight.
Expectedly, Corey felt an incredible buzz. This in turn, made him feel happy and content. In response, he rubbed the side of his head against Ellen's ankles.
Ellen was so pleased with him she knelt down then gave Corey a kiss between his ears.
After saying goodbye, Corey walked back to the staircase, and ascended to the second floor. Then, he went to room number 26.
Now, his vision began to 'fog'. He rested for a short while. The booze in his system was beginning to take its toll. In the olden days, he could easily handle three large shots of straight Vodka. Now, his system was similar to that of an alcoholic's.
Later, Corey partially composed himself then walked over to room number twenty six. Upon reaching the door, he slowly crept inside the room. He ended up hiding under a small table. From here, he had an incredible vantage point.
Inside the room were six young men who were hovering over a young woman. She was on the bed, out cold, naked, and semiconscious. Suddenly, Corey remembered another incident where naked men hovered over a naked woman. This time, he was going to stay and see what was to happen.
The naked woman reminded Corey of what a darted lioness would look like.
Why were 'they' hovering over her, in secret? Corey wondered.
Upon closer examination, Corey noticed that the six young men were in fact, sexually aroused. Once again, their cannons were erect.
Corey understood that a deviant act relating to sex and/or aggression was about to occur. Mind you, Corey still had a lot to learn about human behavior. For the time being, he stayed put.
Only a moment later, the six men got ready to mate with the young woman. They were ready to go. But, this act was to be performed without the full consent of the young woman. Putting it bluntly, the men wanted to gang-rape her! They were taking advantage of a young woman who was out cold. Would they have had the courage to do so if she were wide awake? Corey wondered.
Although male cats can be quite aggressive during copulation, our females are preprogrammed to be a bit evasive and aggressive. They play hard to get, but aren't teasing. That’s the truth, really.
What humans would define as teasing is normal behavior in the feline world. Males in the feline world must keep working at it. Thankfully, even the most aggressive lion will only mate with a fully-conscious lioness. I don't know what the other den members would do if they saw a lion mating with an unconscious lioness.
Lions are used to mating with an aggressive lioness. Every time she's had it, he receives a roar and/or a swap across the face. In reality, it's impossible for one big cat to rape another big cat.
One of the young men closed the door then locked it. Afterwards, he dimmed the lights. Luckily, Corey sneaked into the room in the nick of time.
Corey decided to creep into the closet. In essence, everything that was to happen inside the room would be seen and heard by Corey.
The young men were fixated on their 'prey'. Being in a safe and secure place gave Corey the opportunity to remember the faces of the young men, and the young victim. Deep down inside, he knew who she was. Corey was in a temporary state of denial. Corey concentrated very intently on the faces of the young men. One-by-one, the images stuck in his mind.
"I didn't want to believe my eyes! Jeff was the leader of the pack!" exclaimed Corey.
Corey stretched his neck as far as possible, in order to 'record' the best image of the perpetrators' faces.
No more denial! Corey admitted to himself that the victim on the bed was Cynthia Corbett Corey had to do something, fast. Jeff had made it clear that he had 'shotgun' on Cynthia.
Like a predator stalking its prey, Corey slowly crept towards the bed, trying not to be noticed.
"I couldn't believe my eyes! My best friend in the whole world was about to be humiliated by six young men who couldn't have cared less about her feelings.
The situation became extremely dangerous. Every second I delayed my response made it that much more difficult to help Cynthia. If they 'entered' Cynthia, she'd be subjected to possible Sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy, and/or extreme mental trauma. Whether she was awake, or out cold, they were doing her wrong," said Corey.
Corey began to tremble as he was conveying the story to my mother. She didn't say anything because she wanted him to continue the story, unabated. Besides, she didn't want him to feel that he was wasting his breath.
Corey was pissed off, especially at Jeff. The other five men were only 'assistants'. Not quite as evil as Jeff, but evil anyway. This time, Andy wasn't one of them.
Corey began to feel apprehensive. He was a lone cat, facing six 'adrenaline-crazed' young men. How was he going to subdue them? Or just stop them, for that matter?
Corey made an about-face. He chickened out. He closed his eyes then shoved his face into the carpet, like an ostrich. He wanted to wait it out. He assumed that the incident would be over in a moment, or two. Even with his eyes closed, he still felt Cynthia's presence. He tried to think of other things besides her, to no avail.
It didn't take long for Corey to feel guilty. His feline sense of pride gnawed at him. Furthermore, the scent of the dreaded 'capitulation drug' (animal tranquilizer) was in the air. Normally, the capitulation drug is administered to animals before capture, tagging, or surgery.
This crime was premeditated. The drug of choice is called the 'rape drug' by humans. Because this story is being conveyed by an animal, I shall refer to the drug used as the
'capitulation drug'.
The capitulation drug neutralizes the rape victim. He/she is unable to move or speak. It's frightening! Sometimes, the victim can remember some, or much of the attack. However, it also causes confusion. I mean, like a 'foggy memory' of an event. This makes it quite difficult to take the case to court. Victims are not always their best witnesses.
Corey defiantly opened his eyes then leaped onto the bed; like a leopard. He stood in the opening between Cynthia's upper thighs. In effect, he was shielding her vagina.
Corey extended his claws and bared his incredible teeth. He was trying to hold his ground, even with incredible odds against him.
"Hey, drunkard, get out of the freaking way! Don't bother us while were having fun. If you don't move out of the way, you'll end up on the streets!" shouted Jeff.
The other five rapists burst into a 'group guffaw'. They thought that Corey was a wannabe hero. Here he was a cat trying to defend a human. They couldn't comprehend it. If Corey had been a fighting dog they would've relented. Indeed, he wasn't. Corey was a drunkard cat who was trying to protect his best friend in the whole world.

Corey was hoping that Jeff was bluffing. In one swift move, Jeff hoisted Corey off the bed, smacked him across the face several times, with his free hand, then took aim and threw him through the second floor window. At least, the window was open. If it had been closed, things would've been a lot worse for Corey.

Because Jeff was the GSC quarterback, he was able to throw Corey like a football.
The end result was a 'catastrophe' for Corey. He collided into a large branch, head first. This caused his 'righting reflex' to be temporarily upset. In other words, he couldn't use his incredible feline abilities to allow himself to fall on all fours. Corey landed on his left foreleg, in the manner. It hurt him terribly!
Instantly, Corey shrieked in pain. Although he was still thinking of Cynthia, he knew that his attempt to help her was futile. Corey was severely wounded, in incredible pain, and on the lawn of a fraternity house. Defending Cynthia was now out of the question.
If Corey had been able to return to the 'dreaded site' the rapists would've done him, once and for all.
Corey's feline curiosity forced him to wait on the lawn in order to tune into what was happening.
I will now use the words 'rapist/s' to identify the individual/s who gang-raped Cynthia. Previously, I used the words 'young men' or men. This is because in the earlier part of the narrative the act hadn't been committed yet. I was only trying to be fair and accurate in my analysis. Cats can be very 'precise' at times.
Suddenly, all six of the rapists peered out of the window. One of them pointed at Corey then laughed.
Judging from the voices emanating from room twenty six, more rapists had come for the feast. It was now a 'gang-bangtrain'. Perhaps, a dozen or more potential rapists converged on the scene.
Corey heard Jeff talking to someone on his cell phone. Apparently, Jeff had invited more of his friends to the free copulation episode.
Sadly, there was more humiliation to come. Jeff ordered the other rapists to move aside, enabling him to peer out of the window.
Jeff looked straight into Corey's eyes then told him that he was sorry for what had happened. Corey, in his desperate state, believed Jeff.
"Come on, Corey! I'm really sorry about what happened. I want to be your best friend in the whole world. Please, get a little closer to the wall of the fraternity house. I won't hurt you. I promise! Let me tell you a little story," said Jeff.
Jeff was naked and holding a mug full of urine in his hand. It wasn't normal for a young man to peer out of a window, naked, and with a mug of urine in his hand.
Surprisingly, Corey gave Jeff the benefit of the doubt. An error, indeed!
Corey cautiously approached the fraternity house wall directly underneath Jeff's nose. Jeff grinned then he poured the contents of the mug onto the lawn. Although he was aiming for Corey's head, he missed by a few inches. Corey realized that Jeff had poured urine onto the lawn. He also knew that Jeff was aiming for him. Indeed, it was a terrible thing to do!
The splashing of the urine on the lawn startled Corey, but not without spraying a few drops on his beautiful coat.
Corey instinctively leaped to his left, then away from the wall. Although this was an automatic self-preservation move, it wouldn't be accepted by Corey's left foreleg. As expected, the sudden movement caused Corey incredibly sharp pain in his left foreleg. In fact, it may have aggravated Corey's preexisting injury.
Corey limped away until he was out of reach of Jeff and his rapist friends. Then he fell over onto his side. Although he was still conscious, there was to be no moving about for at least an hour.
Jeff began shouting obscenities at Corey. He called him the worst names imaginable. Corey was in no mood to respond. As soon as he was able to stand up, he continued to limp away.
Now, Corey had to deal with new problems: pain, limping, predators, automobiles, human sadists (people who enjoy hurting cats), food, water, the elements, companionship, shelter, A Cos, hostile animals, basic veterinary medical and dental care, relaxation, play time, other injuries, and general security.
After limping away for several blocks, Corey turned around then gazed up at 'the window'. Although the rapists were now busy doing their thing, Corey was able to see Jeff give his rapist friends high fives. Corey also heard Jeff telling the other rapists to move Cynthia to another room after they finished 'doing her'.
In reality, Cynthia would be out cold for several hours. She had a dangerous combination of alcohol, marijuana, and a capitulation drug in her system. This combination can sometimes be fatal. Even if a person survives this 'drug combo' ordeal, permanent brain and/or body damage is possible. It's troublesome to think about this. Unfortunately, many women and some men have been 'violated' in this manner. Many of them will never find out.
While narrating his story, Corey began to cry. My mother broke down and cried, too. For the proceeding hour, Corey, my mother, and the companion animals in the cargo section, cried their brains out. Many cats and dogs can understand the tragedy that Corey had to live with. Although their stories weren't identical to his, they had their own painful memories to deal with.
Thereafter, Corey was repulsed by the scent of semen, vaginal fluid, and human sweat. Whenever he scented it on a human, he tried to walk away. These 'scents' brought back painful memories. In fact, for three whole hours, Corey abhorred humanity. He slowly recomposed his thoughts regarding humans. Indeed, not all humans are bad, only some of them.
Prior to the gang-rape, Cynthia was actively searching for a good husband. She wanted a sweet man, who wasn't very good looking, with a decent job. Of course, he could never be physically or mentally abusive to her. Neither could he be neglectful of her needs. Shockingly, for a while, she had her eye one of Jeff's friends. The guy wasn't good looking. However, he was by no means ugly, either. Unfortunately, he was one of the 'minor rapists' who did Cynthia.
On numerous occasions, Cynthia made it clear to her friends that she was going to stay a virgin until marriage. She wasn't willing to give it up to anyone. Until marriage, that is.
"Did she really think that the perfect man would suddenly pop-out from amongst those party animals?" Corey wondered.
Corey continued to limp away from the dreaded scene. He just wanted to get away.
Corey limped through a quiet residential area, for roughly fifteen minutes. Although he was hurting like hell, he had to find a decent place to hide and rest.
Luckily, it paid off. He spotted a beautiful tree near an intersection. He exited Wharton Street then entered Mason Street. Of course, he looked both ways before crossing the street. Cats are smart, not dumb, like some other animal species.
As soon as Corey entered the yard, he collapsed several feet from the tree. It took him a minute to recompose himself. Afterwards, he limped to the tree. He couldn't muster up the strength to scale it.
Dawn was fast approaching. As soon as daylight engulfed the sky, Corey would have to be in a safe and secure place.
Corey awakened numerous times throughout his sleep. The pain in his foreleg was unbearable. He didn't know what to do. A handicapped, stray cat, without any friends, on the streets, was doomed to die. Unless Corey could think of something fast, big trouble would engulf him.
When the sun lit up the sky, Corey decided to awaken once and for all. He quickly stood up then fell onto his side. Because Corey had forgotten about his injury, he stood up too fast. As a result, he felt a very sharp pain in his left foreleg.
Corey pondered about his predicament for over an hour. By now, he was extremely thirsty. Indeed, he would've risked his life for a bowl of water. Lucky for him, an elderly woman exited the house nearby then she turned on the sprinkler. The water pressure was mediocre.
Corey hid behind the tree, because he didn’t want the elderly woman to see him. Her response would be unpredictable. It could be empathy or outright hostility and aggression. Corey didn't want to take any chances.
After the elderly woman went back into her house, Corey limped towards the sprinkler.
Shortly afterwards, Corey was cleansed. Meanwhile, the sharp pain in his leg worsened. The bombardment of water on the injury was no consolation for him. As a result, Corey limped back to the tree then collapsed onto the grass. He was out cold for two hours.
The sun had now risen, and was heating everything within its domain. Indeed, it was a warm and sunny day. Too bad, Corey couldn't enjoy the beauty of it.
As if Corey's problems weren't already enough. Another 'sneaky problem' was beginning to affect Corey's psycho motor skills and mind. He needed a drink. Being accustomed to alcohol every single day, he couldn't comprehend being without it.
Corey had several separate seizures. Each time he foamed at the mouth. Also, he fell into a semi-conscious state, before slowly regaining his composure. Thankfully, he didn't swallow his tongue, or choke to death.
Nevertheless, Corey slowly arose then limped out of the yard. Sadly, he was in so much pain, returning to the tree became his only option. This time, he slept for six long hours. Corey was abruptly awakened by the voices of several kids. Four of them were boys, the fifth a 'tomboy'. Each of them was wearing a 'Lions' baseball caps. Indeed, they were little leaguers.
One of the kids called out to Corey.
"Hey, come on, kitty! Do you want to play with us? We'll make you one of the guys. Don't be afraid!"
This was a red alert! Although most kids love animals, some of them are outright cruel. This cohort of kids loves to perform the most horrific acts of torture against innocent animals; the majority of these animals are cats. Somehow, cats usually receive 'personalized' cruelty. What is it with these people?
"I placed myself on red alert. Although the pain in my leg was still tormenting me, I was in a potentially life threatening situation," said Corey.
The kids approached Corey like predators; their eyes focused on their prey. Then, in a swift move, one of them, a chubby boy with zits on his face, picked up a rock and threw it at Corey. The rock hit the tree beside Corey.
The kids erupted into a group guffaw. The rock thrower's guffaw suddenly turned into rage. Corey didn’t run away.
A freckled-faced, pale-skinned tomboy, whispered into the rock thrower's ear. Then, they grinned and gave each other high fives.
What did Corey do to deserve this kind of treatment?
Corey prepared for an escape. He'd have to endure whatever pain emanated from his foreleg. It was that, or be stoned to death.
"Come on, kitty! We love cats! We were just trying to see how fast the rock could be thrown through the air. You can't believe that a bunch of kids would want to hurt a cute cat like you? Do you? Just let us get a little closer to you, so we can see your beautiful eyes," said the rock throwing boy.
No way! Impossible! Corey didn't fall for that lie. Those kids were up to no good. Besides, Corey saw a firecracker partially hidden in the right hand of the rock thrower. No doubt, he had a pack of matches in his pocket.
It's happened many times before. An innocent cat's held down, a firecracker is rammed up his/her rectum, and the rest is known.
However, cats have also much to be thankful for. Good humans have taken cats into their domiciles as pets, and have made them part of their family. There are many cat lovers out there. They treat us the way we deserve to be treated. I'm very proud and thankful that these humans exist. Humans in the animal protection movements usually don't forget us. They've placed cats and dogs high up on their hierarchical ladder of animals. I can't complain about that.
Domesticated cats and dogs have often been referred to as 'companion animals'. They are truly the companions of their human friends.
Wolves, foxes, and coyotes, have been trapped and killed by humans. The Government of the United States supports the Ranchers in their fight against the 'varmints'.
Yes, ranchers do have livestock to protect. Livestock is a rancher's 'bread and butter'. As sympathetic as I am to the plight of the hungry predators, I understand the rancher's perspective. If someone tried to steal my food, I'd fight him/her with every atom of my beautiful body. That is, if I was bigger and stronger than my adversary. This is the case regarding the rancher vs. predatory animals. The rancher's cachet of weapons is astronomically more superior to anything predatory animals could ever muster up.
However, I must tell you that almost all of the premature deaths that occur on large ranches are not from the so-called varmints Death of ranch animals is caused by disease and/or extreme stress.
Corey turned then limped away. One of the boys charged him, like a bull. But then, he stopped in his tracks. The other kids reminded him that they were supposed get back home, or else mother would throw a fit.
They were freaking siblings! What kind of family could produce five potential cat killers?
Although it was painful for Corey to move about, he still managed to limp away for several blocks. By the time Corey reached Palmer Avenue, he collapsed onto the sidewalk. He didn't have the strength to find a secluded area. Although Palmer Avenue was situated in an upper middle class neighborhood, enemies of cats are always lurking in the shadows.
No matter where a cat goes, there are creatures that want to harm him/her. Why? I really don't care! I'm a cat. As such, I'll speak out for the rights of my own kind. I couldn't care less why our enemies want us dead. My own kind counts the most! Corey rested on the sidewalk for roughly ten minutes. Then, he cautiously got up and continued his trek. To compound his problems, Corey didn't know where to go.
Corey was hoping that a human/s would have sympathy on him. Maybe, he/she would be kind enough to take Corey in. THE BARTONS

While Corey was walking on Palmer Avenue he suddenly took notice of a couple walking on the opposite side of the street.
Suddenly, they took notice of Corey. He had a good feeling about this couple. Before he knew it, they'd crossed the street and begun to walk towards him.
"Hey kitty, are you okay? My wife and I love cats. If you don't have a home and would like to be our cat, just say so," said the man.
Although Corey was flattered by the invitation, he still had an atom's worth of doubt in his heart. He was disabled; unable to run away, or defend himself.
After Corey carefully observed the couple's body language, he determined that they were non-threatening. As such, he let his guard down.
Corey limped towards the couple then zoomed in on the couple's ankles. He slowly rubbed the side of his face and body on their ankles.
In turn, the couple petted Corey on his back, sides, then between his ears. Mind you, all this rubbing was very difficult for Corey to do. The pain in his foreleg had not eased up, whatsoever.
Corey flopped over onto his back then allowed the couple to pet his underbelly. He was desperate for companionship, veterinary medical care, food, water, and shelter.
Whenever a cat's in the mood to be petted, go ahead and pet him/her. However, if a cat shows any signs of irritation, anger, fear, or frustration, back away! You can't imagine how powerful and dangerous some cats can become. A good bite or a scratch from one of us is painful!
The woman checked Corey's collar to see if a home address or name was printed on it. There was no collar to be seen. As such, the couple took Corey home with them. Luckily, the fraternity brothers didn't insert a microchip identifier under Corey's skin, either. Corey would've preferred to have died, rather than return to the fraternity house.
"I'm Linda Barton, and this is my husband, Robert Barton." Corey had a good feel about the Bartons. Although he was still a bit apprehensive, things seemed to be getting better. He'd have to be patient and alert.
"You're a cute cat. We're very pleased to meet you. We've always wanted a cute cat in our home. Cats make homes better places to live in," said Linda.
Linda was a very beautiful woman, early forties, with jet black hair and blue/green eyes. Robert was tall, well-built, and had brown hair and hazel eyes. Corey was under the impression that the Bartons were well off.
Linda hoisted Corey up onto her sternum. Then, she gently pressed him against her chest. Corey felt like a little baby. He liked it, because it looked like he'd gotten his meal ticket.
While the Bartons were walking back home, Corey could feel Linda's heartbeat. The thumping made Corey drowsy. Mind you, he still had to deal with the pain emanating from his left foreleg.
They walked north on Palmer Avenue for four blocks, until they arrived at the Bronson Street intersection. After looking both ways, the Bartons entered Bronson Street. Two blocks later, they were face to face with a white mansion.
Corey couldn't believe his eyes! The Bartons' mansion was enclosed by a beautiful white picket fence. The lawn was beautiful, and well-trimmed.
Glancing to his right, Corey noticed a three-door garage. This was the North American cat's dream come true. All Corey needed now was assurance that he was going to be accepted as a Barton companion animal.
"Robert, Linda, I apologize for not being very sociable. I have a pestering injury in my left foreleg. My foreleg's swollen, and it hurts like crazy. I hope I don't end up with gangrene.
Now on a more positive note, my name is Corey Jameson. It's my pleasure to meet you."
"Robert, I'm flabbergasted by Corey's politeness," said Linda.
As soon as the three entered the mansion, Corey almost fainted. He was overwhelmed by the utter beauty of the furniture and decor. It looked like Corey's life was going to change for the better.
But, there was a potential problem to be dealt with. The scent of another cat loomed in the air. Corey didn't know if the other cat was would be friendly, or aggressive.
As Corey was pondering about how to greet the other cat, a Siamese cat, who appeared older than Corey, entered the living room. She was slim and had an energetic aura. Not surprising for a Siamese.
"Corey, Linda's aunt Martha left us Tanya as a going away present. She moved to the Bancroft Senior's Home, several hundred miles north of here. Aunt Martha was eighty years old. She was in no shape to take care of her cat anymore.
Martha's arthritis, heart problem, and diabetes, weakened her considerably. Cats in homes need special care. Love, protection, food, water, veterinary medical care, companionship, shelter, play, and outdoors activities," said Robert.
"Corey, we did take notice of your serious leg wound. If you don't mind, please tell us what happened. We have to tell the veterinarian something, when we go tomorrow," said Robert.
Because Corey hadn't even partially recovered from the terrible ordeal, he didn't feel like spilling his guts out to anyone.
Corey glanced at Tanya then looked at the Bartons. Tanya understood what Corey was trying to say.
"Let's go to my litter box," said Tanya.
When Corey and Tanya were heading to the litter box, Corey sensed something unusual. His feline senses were placed on high alert.
Corey suspected that something terrible was looming in the shadows. For the time being, he stayed quiet.
Tanya's litter box smelled fresh and clean. It was larger than any litter box he'd ever seen. Indeed the Bartons were good folks who knew how to take care of their cat. While Corey was looking at Tanya's litter box, Linda entered the bedroom then carefully placed another litter box beside Corey. After smiling at both cats, she left.
Corey wobbled into his new litter box. Then, he relieved himself. He had to go really bad.
Later, Corey and Tanya decided to crash out in the living room.
Corey was amazed by Tanya’s kind heartedness.
As soon as they entered the living room, Corey rolled onto his side, then instantly fell into a deep sleep. He dreamt that he was a lion on the Kalahari plains. An awesome dream for any cat!
In Corey's dream, the other animals on the plains were terrified of him. He roared, roared, and roared, as loud as he could. Animals could hear his roaring from miles away.
Naturally, he approached a lone lioness he had his eye on. Sensing that she was tired, he turned then walked away.
After Corey took several steps away from the lioness, he had a change of plans. His 'lion ego' got the best of him. He ran to the lioness then did his thing.
Corey mounted the lioness, over and over again, with frequent interruptions. Every time she'd had enough, he'd get a bop on the side of his head. Finally, when she took a fighting stance, he knew that his quick escapade had come to an end.
As Corey was walking away from 'his lioness', he noticed a lone zebra calf a hundred yards directly to his right. Perhaps she was lost. This was a lion's dream-come-true.
Corey squiggled towards the zebra calf, inching his way to a lightening-strike. While narrating his story to my mother, Corey began to drool like a dog.
As soon as Corey was in position, he 'rocketed' towards the zebra calf, took hold of her neck then swung her to the ground. Corey's incredible teeth and sharp claws dug-into the zebra calf's flesh.
Corey teased the calf, biting, then releasing. He repeated this routine a dozen times. Afterwards, he dug deep into her flesh. He ate the zebra's internal organs first. Big cats love to eat the internal organs of their prey. The internal organs are full of nutrition and blood.
While Corey was enjoying his extravagant meal, he was abruptly awakened by Tanya. He almost scratched her, not out of anger, but from 'momentum aggression'. When a cat's eating, fighting, sleeping, or copulating, stay clear.
As soon as Corey awakened, he found Tanya and Linda hovering over him. They were grinning. Linda was holding a bowl of cat food in each hand. Tanya told Corey that she wanted him to eat with her. Corey was amazed at how friendly his 'new family' was. He was very thankful to be part of the Barton family.
Because Tanya was spayed, she and Corey could only be 'chummy friends'. In other words, she could never be the mother of his kittens. There's a serious cat and dog overpopulation problem in much of the world, including North America. Millions of dogs and cats are killed each year in North America, because they've been dumped by their owners, or were born on the streets.
Spaying and neutering helps to alleviate the dog and cat overpopulation problem. Many 'excess animals' are thrown out into the streets, sold to animal labs, given to shelters (often time killed if they aren't sold soon afterwards), sent to terrible breeders, or to cruel owners.
Corey and Tanya ate their cat food then asked for milk and water. Linda returned with plenty of milk and water for the two of them. Corey and Tanya took a long nap after their nutritious meal.
While napping Corey thought about his trip to the veterinarian. Possibly, the veterinarian would be able to fix Corey's ailment. Meanwhile, the pain in his eased up a bit. Companion animals expect their human caretakers to take care of all of their physical and mental ailments.
The long nap turned into a long sleep. By the time had Corey awakened, it was time to go to the veterinarian.
"Corey! You must get up, now! It's time to go to the veterinarian. No doubt, they'll withdraw some blood from your cute body. There'll be other tests too," said Linda.
Tanya reminded Linda that Corey would need to eat a wholesome breakfast before going to the veterinarian. In response, Linda ensured that Corey would leave the mansion on a full stomach.
After Corey had his fill, he rolled over onto his side. He was no longer able to roll around because of his terrible injury.
"Tanya, we're taking Corey to the veterinarian. You remember our veterinarian? Don't you?" asked Robert.
Although Corey was very happy to be part of the Barton family, he still had 'mild suspicions'. He was afraid that the Bartons wanted him to be declawed. He'd have to crop his ears, and use his better judgment. For the time being, he kept his feelings to himself.
Linda left the living room, only to return a few minutes later with an animal carrier in her hands. Corey didn't want to be placed inside the animal carrier. So, he gave Linda a sad face. It worked.
"I guess I'll have to carry you by hand. It wouldn't be right to induce claustrophobia in our beloved cat. Corey, we love you dearly," said Linda.
Because the veterinary clinic was nearby, the Bartons decided to walk there. Robert made sure that he didn't forget his wallet.
The Bartons walked down the street until they reached the veterinary clinic, which was located at 4155 Bronson Street. The sign in front of the clinic read: Dr. RAYMOND GARCIA, DVM, and surgeon.
He was a veterinary surgeon! Corey's pulse and blood pressure almost shot through the clouds! He was terrified, but also felt let-down. How could the Bartons casually have him mutilated? It looked like they wanted the procedure to be done.
The Bartons entered the clinic, with Linda carrying Corey in her hands. They went straight to the reception booth. Robert took hold of Corey then took a seat in the waiting room. Linda spoke to the receptionist. Corey was ready to fight anyone who wanted to mutilate him. Corey wasn't worried about being neutered. He was worried about being declared.
Neutering is a good animal population control measure. De clawing, however, is outright mutilation! No cat would ever want to be declawed! De clawing is cruel and archaic. It’s pure and simple.
Corey and the Bartons waited for a total of fifteen minutes before the veterinary nurse called them over.
When Linda stood up, Corey instantly developed a minor stomach ache. He was jittery, confused, and felt let down. Corey scanned the area for a possible escape, in case he was unable to defeat his foes.
Dr. Garcia's office was spacious and clean, with numerous animal posters on the walls. Corey detected the 'scents' of previous patients who'd been in Dr. Garcia's office.
Dr. Garcia was a middle-aged man, short in stature, pockmarked, and spoke like a southerner. Initially, he seemed like a nice man, smiling at Corey often. He re-assured him that everything was going to be just fine, and not to worry or be afraid.
"Linda, I noticed Corey's favoring his left foreleg. If there are any other problems, please tell me. Indeed, he needs a complete physical examination," said Dr. Garcia.
"Dr. Garcia, I tried to get the story from Corey. But, Corey doesn't feel comfortable talking about it. I suspect that someone did him harm.
Robert and I assumed that Corey didn't want to return to his previous owners. Unfortunately, there are people who'd love to get their hands on him. Cat abuse is something that has been around for eons," said Linda.
"Okay, we'll have to scan him. We must be sure that he's not registered as someone else's cat. I want you and Robert to read the lost and found section of the local newspaper. Please do this for a week, just in case. Make sure that nobody's searching for him. Also, keep an eye on postings on poles, telephone booths, and bulletin boards," said Dr. Garcia. Dr. Garcia told Linda that it was time to go to the examination room. Corey became increasingly anxious, to the point of trembling.
As soon as they entered the examination room, Dr. Garcia leaned over and picked up his medical bag. Corey wanted to limp away. Also, he felt like telling Dr. Garcia and the Bartons to leave him alone! But, he knew that patience is often a smart inaction. He waited intently to see what was going to happen.
"Corey, these are antiquated surgical instruments. They're not suitable for today's surgery. My grandfather used these in graduate medical school. Both my grandfather and father were surgeons.
Surgeons must be learned, patient, and able to work under extreme pressure. Time constraints, and death, are always lurking in the shadows.
During surgery, there's no room for fear. I mean, fear of blood, flesh, cutting, and death. In fact, when performing a procedure, a surgeon must be as cold as ice. The surgeon should never become too attached to the patient. Surgery is performed to correct, remove, prevent, or alleviate a problem. Therefore, drastic actions are often needed.
As a child, I fantasized about being a top-notch surgeon, until the dreaded day. It was the shocker of my life! On a hot and humid Tuesday morning, while I was walking to school, I took notice of 'lynched cat'. The lynched cat wasn't too far away from my home. Perhaps, four blocks.
It appeared that the cat had been lynched the night before. What was left of his tongue was dangling from the side. His eye sockets were empty, and the flies and maggots were enjoying their buffet.
I cut the noose then gently took hold of the cat's body. Luckily, the branch that the cat was lynched from dangled downwards. Kind of like a willow tree. Unfortunately, it was still a tad bit too high for the cat to be able to stand on its claws.
I carried the cadaver across the street to a tiny forested area. I buried him deep into the forest. Constant tears streamed down my cheeks. Miraculously, I was still able to make it to school on time.
However, the image of the victimized cat never left my mind. I say innocent, because no cat deserves to be hanged. No matter what he/she supposedly did," said Dr. Garcia.
Corey's physical examination took approximately twenty minutes. Dr. Garcia was thorough, knowledgeable, calm, and wellmannered. Now Corey felt secure.
Dr. Garcia is the kind of veterinarian that all sick animals dream of having. A minority of veterinarians are outright cruel and ruthless. The same can be said about humanity, in general.
After the examination, Dr. Garcia asked the Bartons to follow him to his office. Meanwhile, Corey was cuddled in Dr. Garcia's arms.
Although Corey was thankful that he wasn't going to be declawed, he was anxious about the fate of his left foreleg. Also, about any other medical problems he could've had.
A 'debilitated leg' would certainly have depressed Corey for life. A limping cat is easy prey. In the wild, or on the tough streets, there's no mercy. Really!
As soon as the Bartons entered Dr. Garcia's office, he motioned them to sit down. Dr. Garcia tried his hardest to put on a smile. Unfortunately, his facial muscles weren't responding to his own deception.
"You've brought me one companion animal after another, for the past fifteen years. You guys are very kind and loving to the animals in your care. If I was a cat, you'd be my first choice for ownership. I respect both of you, from the bottom of my heart. If all companion animals were under the care of people like you, I'd probably go out of business! Certainly, having good owners is very important in the overall cat health scheme.
Anyhow, let me get to the gist of the matter. Corey, you have a very serious injury to your left foreleg. It was likely caused by an uncontrollable fall. Normally, cats have a special 'righting-reflex' that helps them to regain their
composure/position during a fall. In other words, cats are designed to land on all fours.
Corey has abrasions scattered throughout his body. Although I can't be absolutely sure what had happened to him, I'll give you a hypothetical scenario based on my twenty five years of veterinary experience and animal activism.
I think that someone grabbed Corey by his scruff then threw him out of a window. I know this because the abrasions on his body are consistent with those of an animal who'd been thrown into a tree, then fell onto the ground. Believe me, I've seen this before.
Corey was dazed, injured, and taken off guard. His righting reflex had been turned upside down. In effect, he fell like a human. This caused him to land on his left foreleg, in an awkward angle," said Dr. Garcia.
"How could anyone do such a thing? Are you sure there are people in this world who'd resort to this kind of brutality?" asked Linda.
"Unfortunately, yes! There are people who, if given the chance, would do a lot worse. I've seen cats that were brutally beaten, mutilated, burned, hanged, drowned, butchered, humiliated, hog-tied, shackled, starved, neglected, tossed, skinned, and even 'violated'. Thankfully, burnings aren't as common as they used to be. I mean, in North America.
In some parts of China, cats are also prepared as food. The poor kitties may be blow torched, beaten, then boiled, in order to make a special soup.
Centuries ago, many cats were systematically burned as witch accomplices, or because they were considered inherently evil.
Centuries ago, in France, 'bunches' of cats were placed in a basket then tossed into a fire. The viewers loved the 'show'.
Some humans don't want to believe that cats are sentient beings. Cats are alive and have physical and mental feelings. If you don't like cats, fine! Just don't harm them! It's that simple!" replied Dr. Garcia.
My mother began to feel groggy, while Corey was conveying his story. At least for the time being, she was too tired to listen to anyone. It was a long trip, and rest was called for.
Furthermore, the stress of hearing Corey's story zapped my mother's emotional energy. My mother, along with the other animals in the cargo section, told Corey that they needed time to recover from his sad story. My mother was surprised to see that the other animals in the cargo section were listening to the sad story.

After several hours of sleeping and napping, the cargo animals asked Corey to continue his story. Unfortunately, the captain had already begun to descend the airplane. Soon, it would be time to say goodbye.

Although the descent was gradual, the animals felt it before the captain made his official announcement. Cats and dogs have superb senses. They can often see, hear, and feel, what humans are oblivious to.

"This is Captain York speaking. We're making our descent into Sunnyvale International Airport. As expected, it's 85 degrees, with overcast skies.

On behalf of our airline crew, thank you for choosing Trans West Airlines. On behalf of our entire crew, we hope you have a safe and enjoyable stay in Hawaii."

They finally made it to Hawaii. The animals in the cargo area were exhausted. They couldn't wait to get out of their stinking hell-hole.

In all the excitement, Corey defecated. One kitty puked her brains out. This 'intensified' the preexisting stench in the cargo section. My mother endured it.

My mother was excited about seeing Hawaii; a beautiful island surrounded by a gigantic ocean. Most cats could never dream of such a thing.

Domesticated cats and dogs have been taken along by their human owners, to many regions of the world. Some of us like cold weather, while others like warm weather.

Canine breeds such as the Siberian huskies feel right at home in snow covered lands. These large dogs can also be found in warmer regions as companion animals.

Captain York landed the Trans West airplane without incident. Captain York was a good pilot. While he was driving the plane to the terminal, my mother received a sudden rush of anxiety. She loved Corey dearly. But, knowing that they'd never see each other again was very painful. The other animals in the cargo section were aware of the close relationship that had developed between the two. They understood that whatever friendships emerged from the long trip would have to end soon.

As soon as the airline crew opened the hatch, the passengers began to leave. In the cargo section, two airline workers airline workers began to remove baggage, including the animal carriers from the airplane.

The animals that were in the cargo section were placed in a transport vehicle. The driver, a thin woman with red hair, snarled at the animals. Corey smiled at her, thinking that she'd change her attitude.

"You creeps make our airplanes stink! You don't have a right to take up space. You pee and poop whenever the plane takes off and lands. Not to mention, the period in between. Why can't you creatures just stay home!" shouted the driver.

The sound of the transport vehicle's engine helped calm the animals.
Security at the airport was tight. In the olden days, airports and embassies had considerably less security. In fact, many embassies around the world didn't have a security system worth mentioning. Nowadays, there are too many wars, civil wars, revolutions, angry maniacs, hostile movements, and dictators. They make this world a much more dangerous place.

The most dangerous dictators are those who have a very powerful military machine at their disposal, and also have 'absolute media powers' at their disposal. Although some of these dictators give off an aura of honesty and integrity, it's isn't even skin deep. Underneath their waxy skin is a creature ready to kill, maim, lie, and steal.

Understandably, the cargo animals were hungry and thirsty. What they were given during their flight was only enough to fill a sickly mouse.

Everything seemed to be going just fine for the Wilsons. They'd endured a long voyage, without incident. Aside from needing a few hours more of sleep, they were content. As for my mother, she was overburdened with a feeling of claustrophobia. She wanted to breathe some fresh air.

After being locked inside a filthy animal carrier, then a transport cage, she deserved something better.
The Wilson walked to the baggage claim section. They waited roughly fifteen minutes then snatched their bags, one at a time.
As soon as the Wilsons began to walk away from the baggage claim section they spotted a baggage handler. He was tall, broad shouldered, and a bit too old for the job.
"Can you take these bags?" asked Robert.
"Certainly, it's my job to do that!" responded the baggage handler.
Meanwhile, my mother was scratching her animal carrier. She was trying to get the Wilson' attention. She needed to be let out of her animal carrier! Strangely, the Wilson ignored my mother's desperate pleas. Maybe, they weren't that sweet after all?
The baggage handler placed the Wilson' baggage on a trolley, then pushed it to the nearest exit. A short while later, the Wilson were standing on the sidewalk waiting for a cab.
Linda flagged down a cabby then tipped the baggage handler. He smiled then walked away. As soon as the baggage handler entered the airport terminal building, the scabby pulled over in front of the Wilson.
"Hi, where would you like to go?" asked the scabby.
"Could you take us to the Skyline Apartments, located at 1500 Arlington Street, in Donahue," replied Linda.
"I can take you to Donahue. Don't worry. Be advised that the fare may reach seventy five or eighty dollars. I just want you to understand that after my overhead and other fees, I don't even make peanuts for money. Sometimes, I work up to twelve hours a day, in order to make a decent wage.
Cabby's have a right to be pissed off. Our passengers keep complaining about fare increases. They don't quite understand that we cabby's are suffering even more," said the scabby.
The Wilson felt sorry for the scabby. He had tears streaming down his cheeks, and was hyperventilating while he was speaking.
The cabby tried to deny that he was crying; claiming that he suddenly got a case of 'allergy sniffles'. The three vacationers went along with the cabby's explanation. Maybe, he was too proud to admit that even tabbies cry.
A short while later the Wilsons were on their way to the Skyline Apartments. It seemed like they were going to have an enjoyable vacation. Unfortunately, my mother was still in her animal carrier, trying desperately to bet let out.
Thankfully, one person did take notice of my mother.
"Please, don't think I'm overstepping my bounds. But, your cat's trying to get your attention. I notice she's scratching the interior of her animal carrier. I have two beautiful cats at home. I'll tell you what the problem is. Your cat wants to see the landscape. Also, she probably feels a bit claustrophobic. Please, let her out," said the cabby.
"Mandy, what's the matter? Are you in pain? Do you want to be let out of your animal carrier?" asked Steve.
"Please, I'm going nuts in here! I want to freaking see Hawaii! Aren't I part of the vacation team?!" asked my mother.
Karen gently removed my mother from the animal carrier. After pondering for a few seconds, Linda placed my mother on her lap. Instantly, my mother felt like a little kitty.
Finally, my mother was able to catch her breath and see the outdoors. She'd endured more than enough claustrophobia. To make matters worse, it took a total stranger to alert the Wilson about my mother's plight.
My mother took advantage of her new vantage point, glancing at the many interesting sights on the way to the Skyline Apartments.
The cabby slowed down, then came to a stop. The light was red, so the vacationers had to be patient.
Suddenly, my mother took notice of a vicious cat fight. Paws were flying at super speed. Even a prize fighter couldn't have seen the punches and scratches. Wimpy cats that live on the streets usually don't have 'a territory'. The males among this group end up with no progeny. They're as good as sterile.
There are times when a cat must turn and flee. Smart strays survive the longest. Cats that lose a vicious fight may end up with horrific, lifelong injuries. They end up with ugly gashes and scars, and/or partial immobility problems. Cheetahs are smart.
Often times, cheetahs are forced to leave their slab of meat, in order to avoid a fight with a formidable foe. Cheetahs understand that they can't sustain a serious injury. They must always be able to run very fast. Also, cheetahs aren't good fighters. They're awkward.
Although both combatants were launching incredible blows at each other, the smaller cat was eventually knocked out for the long count. Normally, cats don't fight to the death. Unfortunately, the loser had blood oozing from the side of his head, and part of his left ear had been chewed off.
The triumphant cat snarled at his opponent, with the utmost arrogance. It totally shocked my mother! In the olden days, a cat that capitulated was permitted to walk away. Disgraced, but not beaten to death.
When the light turned green, the scabby continued his drive. The sound of the cab's humming relaxed my mother.
My mother cropped her ears in order to tune into the conversation at hand. She learned a lot about the Wilson, and the scabby. Cats can 'pretend' that they're per-occupied with another activity. But, they're really listening-in on what 'you're saying'. Cats are highly intelligent, incredible, agile, beautiful, athletic, tough, and resilient beings. What else could we ask for?
The Wilsons took their vacation partly because Karen wanted to feel Hawaii's warm air. She was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska. She hated snow, cold weather, slush, and not being able to go outside in comfortable clothing all year-round. Hawaii was her dreamland.
Karen was well-educated. She received her Bachelor of Arts degree in Political Science from Yale University. She later she earned a law degree from Stanford University. That's where she met Steve. Karen and Steve decided that they'd get married on the condition that both of them pass the Bar Exam.
Steve, a slim man who ate too much junk food, was born and raised in Kansas City, Missouri. He received his Bachelor of Arts Degree in English from Kansas University. Afterwards, he later received a law degree from Stanford University.
Who knows, what my mother's fate would've been if the Wilson hadn't passed the Bar Exam. Anyway, there's no use in pondering about this hypothetical scenario.
My mother decided to relax, in order to forget her daily problems. She tried to block out the conversation at hand, but couldn't. My mother ended-up pondering about her life with the Wilson. She never saw the Wilson get into a vicious argument, or throw insults at each other. Although, there were a few incidents when Steve became irritated by Karen's persistent pestering. Sometimes, she behaved like a 'borderline bitch'.
Karen would often pester Steve about moving to Hawaii. She got a partial answer, through a vacation. Like a cat stalking a mouse, she used stealth, cunning, and persuasion, to get to Hawaii. This was the first step in a full-scale move to Hawaii. Steve was unaware of Karen's secret plan.
While my mother was pondering away, the scabby interrupted her line of thought with an important statement.
"The Skyline Apartments are only three blocks away. I hope you enjoy your stay there. Don't worry, you don't have to worry about snow," said the scabby.
As soon as they arrived at the Skyline Apartments, my mother's jaw almost dropped to the ground! She'd never seen such an uppity apartment complex. It was fit for VIPs.
"Here we are! I'll pull over in front of the rental office. I've only taken a few passengers to the Skyline Apartments. These apartments are expensive and uppity. Who can afford them?" asked the cabby.
"We will spend three months at the Skyline Apartments. An old friend of my husband's sub-leased his apartment. Afterwards, we'll have to move out, or sign a lease for another apartment," said Karen.
The cabby stopped the meter then asked the Wilsons for sixty five dollars. Steve removed four bills from his wallet then handed them to the scabby.
"Please, keep the change! You've been a good scabby, and arrived in one piece," said Steve.
"A million thanks for the big tip! No passenger has ever given me this much 'tip money'. Really! Give me a call when you need a ride back to the airport, or anywhere else in the vicinity. Here, take my card," said the scabby.
The cabby carefully removed the Wilson' baggage from the trunk, then placed the articles in front of the entrance to the Skyline Apartments.
After a short pause, the scabby insisted on carrying the Wilson' baggage to the manager's office.
They entered the first set of doors then Steve pressed the intercom button to speak to the security guard. As soon as Steve's mouth opened, the security guard spoke.
"Skyline security, please identify yourselves and state your purpose for being here."
"We're the Wilsons. We have a sub-lease from a tenant named Albert Reynolds. He's been living at the Skyline Apartments for at least ten years," replied Steve.
"Yes, I was given instructions to let you in. Mr. Reynolds has been a very good tenant.
As soon as you hear the buzzer, please open the door. Then, enter the foyer. The manager's office is at the end of the hall, on your right. You can't miss it," said the security guard.
The Wilsons entered the door, passed through the foyer, then walked to the end of the hallway. Meanwhile, the scabby had returned to his cab.
Moments later, the Wilsons were standing in front of the manager's office. Karen knocked on the manager's door four times then took a step backwards.
My mother heard the manager approaching the door. He walked slowly. As soon as he opened the door, Karen got the shock of her life.
The manager was a tall, handsome man, who was also slender, with jet black hair and sky-blue eyes. He was polite, softspoken, and friendly.
"Are you the Wilsons?" asked the manager.
“Yes, I'm Karen, and this is my husband, Steve. We're delighted to see you. The Skyline Apartments are absolutely stunning. We've never seen anything like this before."
"I'm Eric O'Connor, the Manager/Administrator of the Skyline Apartments. The tenants call me Eric. I hope your trip was enjoyable. You know the story; fill out these forms, pay the first month's rent, and then I'll give you your keys."
The Wilsons filled out the necessary forms, then handed Eric a check for the first month's rent. Afterwards, they asked him a dozen questions.
As soon as their questions were answered in full, the Wilsons felt a gush of relief. The long journey had taken an incredible toll on the three vacationers.
"Well, everything is in order. Here are your keys, receipt, personal copy of the lease, and handshake. I hope your three months at the Skyline Apartments are very enjoyable.
You'll find tourist guides and brochures in the foyer. If you have any questions, give me a ring. My office hours are posted on my door. Attached to your copy of the contract are important phone numbers, and mailing and email addresses. For emergencies, call 555-1678," said Eric.
As soon as the deal was finalized, Karen tugged on Steve's sleeve. She wanted to see their apartment, pronto!
Eric was amazed at my mother's beauty. My mother sensed that Eric loved cats. Too bad he couldn't have her as a companion animal.
"What's your cat's name," asked Eric.
"Her name is Jody Wilson. Although she has the Wilson name, we didn't give it to her. Jody's our precious little kitty. We love her so dearly. Look at her beautiful eyes.
Anyhow, we'll make sure she behaves herself. No pooping or peeing, unless it's done in her litter box.
Albert promised me there'd be two litter boxes in the apartment. He wanted to make sure that Mandy had a good place to relieve herself, "said Steve.
The Wilsons exited Eric's office, carrying their baggage. As they were walking to the elevators, they took notice of the beautiful carpet, wall paper, lighting in the corridor, and the beautiful paintings. They were utterly awed.
Meanwhile, my mother was placed inside her animal carrier. As shocking as it sounds, it's true! My mother tried to squeeze her head through the tiny gaps between the bars. Her attempts were futile. Because my mother wasn't a super cat, she had to endure whatever suffering was to come. Otherwise, she would've broken out of her pathetic animal carrier.
Linda pressed the 'up' button for the elevator then waited patiently. A short while later, the number three elevator door opened.
The Wilsons carried their baggage into the elevator. My mother sighed in relief. She couldn't wait until the Wilson entered the uppity apartment. At least, she'd be let out of her animal carrier. Or would she?
Karen pressed the number five button then lowered her hand. She grinned at my mother, then at Steve.
For a brief moment, my mother thought about running away as soon as she was able to. But, logic overpowered her urge. Where would she go? How would she survive out in the real world? What kind of game plan would work? What would happen if she returned? These are a few of the countless questions my mother pondered about.
As soon as the elevator door opened, the Wilson began their march to their apartment. Almost immediately, a skirmish ensued between my mother and the Wilson. Steve and Karen wanted to turn right, while my mother insisted on turning left. The Wilson decided to follow my mother. Well, it paid off.
"Steve, we’re finally here! An uppity apartment for three months! Because we don't know anyone in this city, we can relax and do things we wouldn't dream of doing back home. We can have our privacy at last," said Karen.
Karen was impatient. She snatched the apartment keys from Steve then unlocked the apartment door. After taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open. Immediately, an immense wave of room deodorizer engulfed the three vacationers. Apparently, the apartment had just been cleaned, all to the benefit of the vacationers.
The vacationers entered their apartment. Karen carried my mother's animal carrier into the living room then placed it on the carpet. After pondering for a few seconds, she carried my mother's animal carrier to the kitchen. As soon as Karen let go of my mother's animal carrier, she was bitched out.
"Karen, please! I'm suffocating here! Don't freaking leave me here! That would be totally inhumane and inconsiderate. Let me out! If you don't, I'll never speak to you again! Ever! Don't be a freaking bitch!" my mother shouted.
After recovering from the shock, Karen let my mother out of the animal carrier. Then, she took several steps to her right. My mother was in no mood to have her path blocked. Especially by the person who'd just imprisoned her.
My mother ran straight to the living room. As soon as she entered the living room, she spotted a black sofa. A few leaps later, she was rolling on the black sofa.
My mother never scratched or bit articles of furniture. She was aware of the repercussions. Often times, scratching cats are declared, put to sleep, or simply dumped on the side of the street.
"Be sure not to scratch anything! It's not our furniture!" yelled Karen.
My mother took that as a direct insult. She'd never bitten or clawed any articles of furniture. Why did Karen remind her not to scratch any articles of furniture? For a brief moment, my mother considered scratching the black sofa out of spite.
It seemed like the Wilson were becoming more and more 'unloving' and 'uncaring' towards my mother. Cats that are forced to endure this kind of predicament must have a good game plan for a sudden exit.
The Wilsons were exhausted. As such, they crashed out in the bedroom. Hunger and thirst usually take a back seat to sleep. A short while later, the three 'tenants' were sound asleep.
On the streets, a cat must keep one eye open, unless he/she has an incredible hiding place. All sorts of dangers lurk in the shadows.
While asleep, my mother dreamed that she found a lone slab of meat. It weighed roughly fifty pounds, was bloody, and waiting to be eaten. Initially, my mother froze. After the shock of it, she ran to the slab of meat then opened her mouth. That slab of meat was almost in my mother's mouth, but was snatched away.
My mother was abruptly awakened by the sound of a fallen vase. The vase had fallen because it was placed on the edge of the counter. Obviously, something spooky tipped it over.
My mother was totally pissed off! How could that stupid vase destroy her dream? She felt like pouncing on the broken pieces.
My mother stretched her muscles then roamed around. She was happy to live in a beautiful apartment. Also, she appreciated the air conditioner. What else could a cat ask for?
Wilson awakened about an hour later. Upon awakening, Karen went to the kitchen. Once there, she opened the kitchen storage room. Instantly, she got the shock of her life! The entire storage room was full of food particles! Linda was thankful that her husband's friend was such a sweet guy. For a split second, Karen imagined that she was married to Albert. Then, she remembered her sister, Sandra. Sandra was thirty years-old, and still single. Maybe, she could set her sister up with Albert? She wondered.
Steve lethargically followed Karen to the kitchen. Once there, he heard Karen say something that no husband ever wants to hear.
"Steve, your friend Albert is the right man for my sister! If you weren't my husband, I'd marry him myself! I'm just kidding, baby. You are the only love of my life. Even my sister can't have you," said Karen.
My mother was shocked at Karen's slip of speech. She didn't believe that Karen was only kidding.
My mother became overly anxious, causing her to receive a sudden jolt of energy. She ran throughout the interior of the apartment until the Wilsons could bare it no longer.
"Mandy, I want you to stop horsing around! Slowly walk to the living room, then leap onto the black sofa and stay put! I will not repeat myself!" shouted Karen.
My mother obeyed Karen's commands. However, she did feel a bit of defiance in her heart.
Henceforth, the Wilson didn't seem that sweet after all. My mother decided to draw out a plan for a possible escape.
"Listen, what you see all around you doesn't belong to us! It belongs to Steve's friend, Albert. Albert's a good man. However, he'll go ballistic if he finds his furniture in ruins!" shouted Karen.
Meanwhile, my mother's hunger pangs returned. Saliva began to dribble down the corners of her mouth. Her hunger pangs could no longer be hidden or ignored. Jet lag was over.
As soon as Steve entered the living room, he noticed my mother was slobbering. He was shocked to see her in this condition.
Steve told my mother to go to the kitchen and wait. "Karen, Mandy's starving! We need to get her some food, fast! Please, on the double!" exclaimed Steve.
While Steve was speaking to Karen, his cell phone rang. After allowing it to ring four times, he answered. Steve then left the living room.
Meanwhile, Karen brought forth two cans of cat food. After opening both cans, she placed the contents into a blue bowl. My mother dashed to the blue bowl, then feasted like a lion. She cleared everything in sight.
Because my mother was still hungry, she followed Karen to the living room. She meowed, play bit Karen then yanked on her ant leg. It worked! Karen knelt down then picked my mother up. She gave my mother a kiss between the ears then carried her back to the kitchen.
After my mother ate two more bowls of chicken and tuna, she asked for milk and water. Luckily, there was plenty of milk and cold water in the fridge.
As time passed, the vacationers became accustomed to living in Hawaii. Karen's secret game plan was working. Now, even my mother wanted to stay in Hawaii.
Thankfully, the Wilson took my mother out on a daily basis. They also allowed her to ride in their rented blue Pontiac. However, I must say that my mother had many lonely periods. Sometimes the Wilson would go out until late at night. They'd return home satiated and drunk.
For the most part, my mother was satisfied. She understood that she fared better than most other cats, especially strays. If she'd only known what was in store for her. Nobody knows what the future will bring, until it becomes the present.
Even the Wilson' neighbors were friendly. Sometimes, they'd donate cat food for my mother. In addition, Eric came by once a week to inquire about the Wilson and my mother.
A couple of weeks prior to the Wilsons return to Missouri my mother met a very special person. This person would not only alter my mother's life, but also mine.

On a beautiful Friday morning, the Fergusons, who lived in apartment number 501, knocked on the Wilson's door. The Fergusons were leaving Hawaii.

Apparently, Mr. Ferguson was being transferred out of the country. He and his wife were moving to Calgary, Alberta; a thriving and expanding city.

Mr. Ferguson and his wife loved Hawaii's mild weather and 'Pacific attitude'. They weren't sure how they'd survive up north.

Steve invited the Fergusons into his apartment. The Ferguson declined; stating that they were going to the airport in a short while. Therefore, they had no time for a long conversation.

The Fergusons began to weep. They were born and raised in Hawaii. This was the first time that they were leaving home. They were already home sick.

"Come on, guy! Canada's a very nice place to live in. It's not like we’re going to a country where the natives speak a foreign language. I think the cold weather, and just being up north, will be good for your psyche," said Steve.

The short pep talk was enough to cheer-up the Fergusons. They realized that they were being silly. No more crying for the Ferguson. When they said their goodbyes, they were in good spirits.

Karen gave them another short pep talk.
"Don't worry. Both of you are scientists who can find work in any city across North America. If you don’t like Calgary, move to another Canadian city. Or, come back to the United States.
Enjoy the beautiful snow. Purchase a cat from a shelter as soon as you arrive. You'd be surprised how important Mandy is to us. Every time my husband and I pet her, we can feel our blood pressure and pulse drop," said Karen.
"Thanks a lot! You've made our day! I think Calgary will be a good place for us to live in! We might even buy ourselves a cat!" exclaimed Mrs. Ferguson.
The Ferguson walked back to their apartment in good spirits. My mother waved to them one last time, before they entered their apartment.
My mother wished the Ferguson the best of luck. Although she'd only seen them a few times before, they did seem like a friendly couple; never bothering their neighbors with loud music, or big parties.
Four days later, another couple moved into apartment number 501. The husband was a muscular, fifty-something executive, with green eyes and brown hair. His wife was gorgeous, innocentlooking, and only twenty-something. She was a redhead and had 'sky-blue' eyes. Aside from her good looks, there was nothing worth mentioning. She was a typical airhead.
On the day of the Wilson' departure, they allowed my mother to roam the hallway unattended. But, there were conditions. She had to stay on the fifth floor, and she was 'absolutely forbidden' to enter anyone's apartment. These conditions are similar to those imposed on children.
The Wilsons reminded my mother that some humans have an extremely wicked interior. Sometimes, that wickedness is wellhidden, until it's too late for the victim. My mother didn't quite believe what the Wilson had told her. But, she went along with it anyway.
The Wilsons went out for some heavy-duty shopping, eating, and movie viewing, because it was their last day in Hawaii. The Wilsons left their apartment door slightly ajar. In case anyone tried to 'burgle' their apartment, Jody was ordered to scream and shout until the burglar/s fled the area. I guess their instructions were a bit contradictory.
My mother began to roam the hallway as soon as soon as the Wilson entered the elevator. Although she knew it was wrong to do so, she listened in on the 'private conversations' of the tenants.
As my mother was strolling through the hall, she heard a woman shouting from room number 510. My mother was shocked by the woman’s profanity.
After the woman stopped shouting, she began to cry. She was obviously shouting at a loved one.
As soon as the man was within an inch of the apartment door, he apologized to the woman for every terrible thing that he'd ever done to her.
"Please, Cindy-baby, I'm so sorry for what I did! Please give me a chance to make it up to you. Look, we can go to the movies then we'll go to the mall. We'll have a nice meal and stroll around for a few hours. When we return, we'll make love. In that case, everything will be just fine.
"No! That's not enough! I want you to get on your hands and knees, like a dog. Then, you must apologize to me from the bottom of your heart. You lied to me! You told me that you were going to treat me like a princess!" shouted the woman.
"Please, why should I treat you like a princess?" asked the man.
"I AM YOUR FREAKING WIFE! THAT IS WHY!" shouted the woman.
"Jeepers, why does marriage have to be so hard?" my mother asked herself.
After a couple of minutes of quiet, the couple approached the door then they put on their shoes.
My mother ran to the end of the hallway then curled up into a ball. She was practically invisible.
The married couple exited their apartment then walked to the elevators. A short while later they disappeared.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, my mother uncurled herself then resumed her strolling. For a short while, there was hardly anything worthy of listening to.
As my mother was returning to the Wilson' apartment, she heard someone dry heaving. Then, the woman inside her apartment began to vomit and dry heave over and over again.
Naturally, my mother's feline curiosity got the better end of her. She stealthily approached the woman's apartment. My mother found herself in front of apartment number 500. After scanning the floor, she shoved her ear against the apartment door. Mind you, my mother wasn't trying to be a mosey cat. She truly cared about the fate of the person who was 'selfinflicting' a severe punishment upon him/herself.
After the second dry heave, my mother determined that the person was a young woman. Now, the woman was also vomiting. She was inducing herself to dry heave and vomit. Cats have a keen ear for these things.
The woman appeared to be alone and in severe psychological distress. She needed someone to help her. Perhaps that someone would be a cat.
Even cats know that inducing a dry heaving spell, and vomiting spree, is potentially dangerous. Fatal stomach ruptures can occur. Frequent vomiting can also cause throat, tongue, metabolic, nutritional, and digestive system problems.
Often times, the problem is detected at the dentist's office. In rare cases, the knuckles of the 'inducer' may have calluses or teeth marks on them.
Indeed, anorexia nervous and bulimia nervous (purging type), are very serious cries for help. The pained on must stop his/her actions. Otherwise, it is imperative that he/she seek professional help. The end result may possibly be lifelong physical/mental problems, or even death.
The pained one may be in denial. Whether the eating disorder was caused by an incident/s, body isomorphic disorder, or idolizing the thin body image, we must never assume that things will automatically get better. In extreme cases, deliberate suicide, reckless behavior leading to suicide, or inadvertent suicide through persistent starvation/purging can occur.
Even a smiling anorexic/bulimic who appears happy, may be quite unhappy. Hell, he/she may be contemplating suicide.
Mind you, some humans have super efficient metabolism, or exercise too much.
However, if you suspect someone of suffering from an eating disorder keep a sharp lookout. If you have proof or verification of the problem, then it must be tackled immediately.
Mind you, drastic weight loss in individuals can also occur as a result of an underlying medical problem. The individual may be mentally healthy, but, physically unhealthy. Don't play doctor, unless you are one.
As soon as the 'episode' in room number 500 ended, a new problem arose. The woman began to cry. Initially, my mother froze. She never liked to see or hear another person cry. Instantly, she drew out a plan to help the woman. Cats are remarkable at helping humans who are in dire straits. Indeed, cats are very talented beings.
Receiving the comfort of a caring human, or animal, is sometimes as good as a large dose of medicine. Many cats are kind, loving, and caring. Well, they may not show it because of cat pride. Rest assured it's true. Cats know that they can lower a person's blood pressure, pulse, stress level, and many physical and mental problems. All they have to do is just be around. Sometimes when a cat ‘mock attacks’ a human it helps make the human feel more at ease.

My mother pawed at the apartment door, over and over again. Then, she politely asked the young woman to open the door.
A short while later, a severely depressed, but still beautiful young woman, opened the apartment door. She looked straight into my mother's eyes. My mother's feline intuition and sharpness enabled her to see pain, depression, anxiety, confusion, fear, and apprehension, in the eyes of the young woman.
The young woman knelt down then blew my mother a kiss. Afterwards, she got on all fours and kissed my mother between her ears. My mother liked it! She now had a new 'human friend'.
"Come in, don't worry! I won't bite you. I've got some milk in my fridge; really fresh and tasty stuff. I'll leave the door wide open, in case you decide to leave my apartment. Please, trust me. I'll never betray you. I'll never use you even when you're down and out. I won't make fun of you in front of your face, or behind your back," said the young woman.
After the brief barrage of kind words, the young woman collapsed onto her bed. Then, she dry heaved several more times. A full minute later, the young woman was able to get out of her bed then slowly walk to the restroom. Once inside, she washed her hands, brushed her teeth then gargled with mouthwash.
After the young woman exited the restroom, she went to the kitchen and slowly fixed herself a health drink.
The young woman didn't take a single gulp until she poured some of the health drink into a blue bowl then set it beside my mother.
She was a kind woman indeed. After the two new friends had their fill, they decided to talk.
But then, my mother became a bit apprehensive. She wondered if the young woman was hiding a psychotic personality. Her behavior wasn't normal.
My mother turned right then took several steps towards the apartment door. Something made her stop dead in her tracks. It was then, that my mother realized that her fears were unfounded. The young woman was in too much pain, agony, and torment, to harm anyone, let alone, a cute little cat. The young woman was a victim. But, how was she victimized? My mother wondered.
My mother turned back then approached the young woman, stopping just an inch from her.
"My name is Cynthia Corbett I've always loved cats. Most cats are cute and sweet. No cat has ever harmed me. Let alone used me like a rag. Although I love dogs, some of them are extremely aggressive. I like to keep it safe.
I had many stray cat friends during my childhood. One of them was the love of my life. She's long gone now. You see, during my childhood years, I was bounced around from one foster home to another.
I don't want to overburden you with my problems. However, since the dreaded act, I've been very depressed, anxious, confused, and afraid. Not to mention pissed off as all hell! My eating and sleeping habits have been adversely affected. I'm having severe problems finding the right man. I just want to find Mr. Right. I just want to be loved! I just want to live a normal life! I just want to be married! I just want kids!
I'm afraid to use powerful psychotropic medications. Some have harmful, or potentially harmful, side effects. In rare cases, death is a possibility.
Rest assured I'll never take my problems out on you, or any other cat. I want to purchase a cat from a shelter. I want her to be as pretty and cute as you. But, I must get my own life in order first."
Cynthia leaned over then gently held my mother's collar between her index finger and thumb. My mother understood exactly what Cynthia was trying to do. She stood still and allowed Cynthia to read the name on her collar. Thankfully, the Wilson made sure that an identification collar was on my mother's neck.
"Jeepers, I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Mandy Wilson. I'm from Missouri."
"Gosh, your name is Mandy. That's a beautiful name. I have a friend in Washington named Mandy. She's studying biology. Biology students have to spend countless hours in the lab. Persons holding advanced degrees in biology are considered scientists.
After my friend Mandy receives her undergraduate degree, she'll apply to veterinary medical school, somewhere in Washington. Unfortunately, I don't call her too often. She's often busy hitting the books. I don't want to bother her.
Anyway, I have more pressing concerns at hand. I've got terrible problems to deal with. I know I'm sick. Anorexia nervous and bulimia are very serious illnesses. I'm primarily an anorexic. Unfortunately, a few years ago, I went through three bulimic phases.
I think anorexics are directing their anger and pain against themselves. Bulimia is a matter of losing control, running away from problems, and using food as a cure-all. In my particular case an eventual return to anorexia is often the end result.
Honestly, my case isn't too extreme. As you can see, I only have another thirty pounds to lose," said Cynthia.
Cynthia became so emaciated from talking, she almost collapsed. My mother leaped onto Cynthia's chest, using her momentum to push Cynthia into an upright position.
After Cynthia regained her composure, my mother turned then leaped onto the carpet.
My mother wasn’t going to let Cynthia to get away from her. My mother wanted to help Cynthia in every way possible. My mother was an incredible person. Nobody in the whole world could ever compare to her.
My mother began her sustained empathy by asking Cynthia an important question:
"What do you mean by you just have another ten pounds to lose? Girl, you're thinner than a pencil! Your breasts are like those of a prepubescent. The fact that you want to lose more weight means you need help! Please, get some help, fast!" exclaimed my mother.
"Mandy! YOU DON’T LOVE ME! You're trying to hurt me! You're trying to humiliate me! Mandy, you raped me!" shouted Cynthia.
"Cynthia! What are you talking about! Why are you behaving irrationally! I'm not trying to hurt you! I'm trying to help you!" shouted my mother.
"I'm sorry, Mandy. Whenever someone encroaches upon me, I get horrific flashbacks of 'the incident'. I often feel like I am being gang-raped again and again. Then tossed away like a dirty rag and mocked at.
"Mandy, I love you! I'm sorry that I snapped at you. Please forgive me, so we can remain best friends,” said Cynthia.
Thankfully, all was now well. My mother forgave Cynthia. Afterwards, they made up. My mother licked Cynthia's chin then she pawed away the tears that were dribbling down her best friend’s cheeks.
Although my mother was worried about Cynthia’s
determination to lose more weight she let it go for the time being. Instead, my mother 'scented' Cynthia, by rubbing her body against Cynthia's ankles. As such, my mother considered Cynthia hers, and absolutely no one else's.
Afterwards, my mother rolled onto her back, thereby exposing her vulnerable underbelly. My mother wanted Cynthia to understand that she trusted her so dearly.
Cynthia hoisted my mother off the carpet, then, pulled her against her cleavage. My mother found herself being smothered by a very skinny woman. Cynthia's sternum, clavicles, and shoulder blades were barely covered by what little flesh there was. Where were the neighbors? Didn't anyone care about Cynthia? My mother wondered.
Cynthia grinned then stroked my mother between her ears. Cats love to be petted and stroked between their ears. It helps to relax them.
Although Cynthia was thankful for my mother's empathy, she needed much more uplifting. My mother understood this very well. Being happy for the moment is nice. However, it's not a substitute for long-term treatment.
"Mandy, would you like to hear my story?" asked Cynthia.
My mother responded in the affirmative then licked the palm of Cynthia's hand. Cynthia put on a forced grin then gently rubbed her chin against the side of my mother's head. Cynthia was trying to become 'kin' with my mother. She was already beginning to behave like a cat.
Cynthia went to the living room then gently placed my mother on a beautiful brown sofa. My mother felt a very strong attachment to Cynthia.
Cats have seen the utter devastation caused by eating disorders. Actually, the eating disorder is the primary symptom, not the underlying problem. Cynthia was now lucky to have a caring friend nearby.
Cynthia braced herself, cried a lot, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissue paper. She removed several pieces of tissue paper then wiped her cheeks dry. Afterwards, she tossed the tissue paper into the nearest waste basket. Cynthia's 'Niagara Falls tears' were a testament to her suffering.
"Mandy, when you want me to stop narrating my story, just tell me. Point blank.
Several years ago, I was an undergraduate student at Gramson State College (GSC), in California. Gramson’s roughly a hundred miles north of San Francisco. It's a small city with a population of roughly 50,000.
In the beginning, everything seemed just fine. I had a 4.0 GPA, tons of good friends, much money, and I was drop-dead gorgeous. I could tell, because men gave me that 'special look'. Actually, before 'the incident', I thought that they loved me. Well, I learned a big lesson after the incident.
Jeff, my 'former friend', had once been the best male I'd ever known. That is, until I found out that he was a monster in sheep's clothing.
Prior to the incident, Jeff often helped me with my homework. I reciprocated. Although we were both straight 'A' students, our majors were different.
Okay, every-so-often, Jeff would try to make 'an innocent move' on me. I really didn't think much of it. I mean, he'd try to touch me in inappropriate places, at inappropriate times. I figured it was normal under the circumstances," said Cynthia.
My mother tilted her head to the side, indicating that she wasn't quite sure what Cynthia was talking about. She needed more elaboration.
Cynthia understood what my mother was trying to say to her.
Whenever I had a problem in one of my assignments, Jeff would come over and try to help me. Of course, I did the same for him.
Regarding Jeff's inappropriate touching, I later found out that he was sexually assaulting me with his slick hands," said Cynthia.
My mother noticed that Cynthia began to shed tears again. So, she gently pawed Cynthia's face. Then, she told her that she loved her. This made Cynthia feel better.
"Before I understood the truth about Jeff, he was like a knight in shining armor. Most of the other girls at GSC would've made love to him in a flash. And, he knew it," said Cynthia.
My mother noticed that Cynthia wanted to ask her a question. Perhaps, she had forgotten my mother's name.
"Cynthia, my name is Mandy Wilson."
With all of the stress and tension of conveying my story, I'd forgotten your name.
Mandy, my entire life was altered in a flash. Jeff and Andy went to a pet store and purchased an incredible cat named Corey. It would've been better if they'd purchased Corey from a shelter, rather than from a pet store. Millions of cats and dogs in the United States are killed every year in shelters. There's a terrible cat and dog overpopulation problem in the United States. Pet stores should be 'researched', before given any business.
Often times, people purchase pets, then toss them a few weeks, or months later. They don't understand that a pet needs much caring for.
Have your animals SPAYED AND NEUTERED! Anyhow, I need to get back to my story.
Many late night parties were held at the college dormitories and fraternity and sorority houses. There were GSC students who believed that college was a place to learn how to party and get laid. Studying was dreaded at all times.
On that dreaded day, students were celebrating the end of finals. I made the mistake of going to the party alone. Usually, I'd go with at least a couple of my girlfriends. It's a safety precaution designed to help protect women against violence. As soon as I arrived at the fraternity house, I started to 'binge drink'. I thought it was cool to do so. So did most of the other party animals at the fraternity house; men and women alike.
I lost count of how much I drank. As expected, I eventually fell into a stupor. In addition, I was given a 'chemical immobilization drug' (CID) by my so-called friend, Jeff. I didn't find out until after the incident that Jeff had slipped the CID into one of my drinks.
I remember him pulling his arm back quickly, upon my turning back to face him. We were sitting on bar stools in the lounge room. How could I have been so stupid? That was the question that rang in my head for weeks after the incident.
Luckily, after I cleared my head, it became apparent that everyone can be fooled or 'connived', under the right circumstances.
Suddenly, I awakened from a terrible night of binge drinking. My memory for the moment had faded. But, I soon remembered enough to know what had happened to me. I noticed that my shirt was smeared with dried-up vomit, blood, and tons of dried-up semen. Actually, one tiny slab was still a bit soggy.
I'd consumed so much alcohol and dope, my body literally catapulted it. In short, vomiting was my body's defensive strategy.
The thought of having been gang-raped now rushed through my head. It didn't matter whether the perpetrators were men, women, aliens, or animals. I was violated against my will. Worse yet, I was too inebriated to defend myself. No, I was paralyzed! Never mind, some of the men who 'did me' were supposedly dear friends of mine. They stabbed me in the back when I was down! Actually, they were the ones who put me down!
As for my deserving it, no way! Although, I shouldn't have made partying a big part of my life, nor should I have lowered my guard. I did leave myself open to an assault, like a giant slab of raw meat on the Serengeti Plains. Still, I didn't deserve to be violated. Especially, by so many guys!" exclaimed Cynthia.
Cynthia broke down again. Then, she curled up into a snaillike position. Afterwards, she began to hyperventilate.
My mother slowly calmed Cynthia down, intimately explaining to her that nobody was going to rape her, ever again.
Cynthia was shivering so badly, she looked like someone who was having a malaria seizure.
My mother pawed Cynthia's face then she gently rubbed the side of her head against Cynthia’s chin. Cynthia recomposed herself.
Afterwards, my mother insisted that Cynthia eat a wholesome meal, without inducing vomiting afterwards. Thankfully, Cynthia followed my mother's instructions. She was now able to continue her story.
"As the 'seconds' passed, I began to form a picture of what had happened to me. I remembered the presence of several young men hovering over me. They looked like giant vultures, waiting to devour me.
Soon afterwards, they got to eat their flesh. In other words, they had their way with me. Too cowardly to do it with a fully-conscious woman; they found me an ideal target.
I felt so sad, depressed, apprehensive, guilty, violated, tormented, abused, sickly, disgusted, nervous, confused, dirty, stupid, naive, vain, oblivious, mentally incompetent, despicable, terrified, vengeful, used, betrayed, anxious, worthless, doubtful, angry, cheap, frivolous, and 'partially' in denial. Although I knew that it had happened, a part of me still clung onto the possibility that maybe it was a night terror. I think many gang-rape victims do that.
I was surely ‘infected’ with 'Gang-Rape Syndrome' (GRS). In other words, I'd have to endure a life of painful symptoms, and other untold problems. There was no way around it. It would only take a short while for me to fully feel the force of it all. What would I become?
Would I have to live as an anorexic, psychotic, paranoid personality type, overly anxious, or extremely depressed? Indeed, I felt like a water balloon that had just burst. I couldn't recompose myself. I'd have to deal with the tragedy every single day, for the rest of my life.
I fully awakened at 7:30 A.M., slowly getting out of the filthy bed I found myself in. Afterwards, I rubbed my eyes because there was dry semen and urine on my entire face. Aside from sexually violating me, those creeps also relieved themselves on me. I smelled like a giant 'semen urinal. I was hygienically dirty!
Surprisingly, nobody else was in the fraternity house. Otherwise, they would've tossed me out, for being such a stink. I figured the guilty parties went to Balding Park to drink more alcohol and brag about their 'incredible conquest'. I pictured them eating pizza and drinking up a storm. Maybe, there'd be a girl or two with them. This breed of females is extremely ruthless. They'd call me a filthy harlot! A tease! A bimbo! A 'wanted-it-deep-down-inside-girl'! And, every other terrible name they could think of.
I slipped my right foot into my shoe, but couldn't find my left shoe. I decided to find my shoe before leaving the fraternity house. As I walked down the corridor, I peered into every room that I passed.
Then, it dawned on me. The gang-rape must've occurred on the second floor. I was on the third floor. The third floor only had two bedrooms. The rest of the space was designated for laundry, a study room, and a snack room.
I very-well knew that almost all sexual acts were performed on the second floor. This rule applied in student resident houses, fraternity houses, and even sorority houses.
I descended to the second floor then headed straight to the 'dreaded room'. I could smell semen and urine emanating from one particular room.
As soon as I entered the dreaded room, I spotted my left shoe near the bed. Apparently, things were a lot worse than I could've ever imagined. Those creeps must've 'done me', then carried me to several other rooms; one at a time. In the end, they carried me down to the second floor.
In all the commotion, why didn't any of my 'sisters' come to my rescue? Sadly, I'd never find out.
I sat on the bed, then reached over and grabbed my shoe. After slipping my left foot into my shoe and tying my laces, another object caught my attention. Shockingly, it was my purple panties. Tucked underneath a stack of books, it certainly looked out of place.
In order to make sure that they were my panties, I closed the door then dropped my pants. I wasn't wearing anything underneath! Next, I leaned over then grabbed my panties. They were wet! My panties smelled like semen, sweat, blood, and vaginal fluid. There was a lot of dried semen on my panties. It couldn't have all been from one person. I instinctively knew that there were multiple semen samples ‘inserted’ into my panties. It seemed like the more I investigated, the more I uncovered.
Although I felt very disgusted about wearing a
dirty/stained pair of panties, I felt even dirtier not wearing anything underneath my pants.
At this point, there was no doubt in my mind: I was certain! I was gang-raped! I no longer thought of the young men as creeps. They were rapists! Pure and simple! Each and every single one of them!
The rapists were overconfident and conceded. There were many of them. I was in no mood to forgive any of them!" shouted Cynthia.
My mother had to insist that Cynthia stop her story for fifteen minutes. Cynthia was developing some major jitters. She almost looked like she was about to have a seizure. My mother couldn't allow that to happen.
My mother gently pawed and patted Cynthia's face for several minutes. Then, she licked her on the cheeks, chin, and right hand. Thankfully, my mother's actions were helpful. Now, Cynthia was ready to continue her story.
"I held my panties in my hands, staring at them, and sniffing them, for several minutes. It was then, that my first flashbacks occurred. It was so terrible I hugged the bed pillow for fifteen minutes. Mind you, I was crying at the same time. I tried to imagine what the rapists were saying while they were doing me. Maybe they said something like, 'come on baby just say no'!
After pondering about what the rapists may or may not have done, I began to ponder about what to do with my panties. Should I toss them? Wash them? No way! I decided to keep my panties as they were. No tampering with the evidence.
Even in Hollywood crime shows, the rape victim's usually intelligent enough not to take a shower, or destroy any of the evidence. I certainly wasn't going to make the mistake of destroying valuable evidence.
Out of nowhere, I felt a terrible burning sensation in my stomach. It was caused by incredible anger. I was pissed off as all hell! And some! In addition, I was still a bit hung over. It takes a while for alcohol to be completely processed out of the system.
Until I sobered up, my mental faculties wouldn't be up to par. In the meantime, I had to do something about my breath. I had barf, semen, urine, vomit, alcohol, and empty stomach breath. I could've driven off a giant dragon with my stinking breath.
I entered one of the rooms, opened the mini-fridge then removed some food and drinks. I ended up stuffing myself.
After eating, I returned to the dreaded room then took hold of my shoulder bag. Thank GOD they didn't also take my property. I think that the rapists were too busy taking my body, instead. I opened my shoulder bag then pulled out a toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and a mini bottle of mouthwash.
After thoroughly cleaning my teeth and the inside of my mouth, I placed the articles into my shoulder bag. Then, I took out a pack of gum.
I ended up chewing on the gum for fifteen minutes, before I felt that I'd accomplished my mission: to cleanse and purify my teeth, and the inside of my mouth. The rest of my body would need much more work to accomplish the same goal," said Cynthia.
Cynthia had fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. I knew what was going to happen shortly afterwards.
"Mandy, you can't understand what it feels like! I felt so violated! I just didn't want to see, hear, or speak to anyone! Let alone be touched, hugged, or given a pep talk! It was a strange feeling. My friends and I had always been very 'touchy'.
For the time being, I could only tolerate the touch of an animal. Mandy, I wish you were there! It would've made my ordeal much easier to live through," said Cynthia.
My mother knew exactly what Cynthia was trying to say.
"Cynthia, I love you too!" exclaimed my mother.
"Mandy, when I was in grade school, I embraced my girlfriends often. They did likewise to me. After the gang-rape, I clearly understood that the good 'Ole days were gone forever," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia, I feel so much love, compassion, and empathy for you! Let's stay best friends, regardless," said my mother.
"Yes! I wholeheartedly agree with you! As such, I must continue my tragic story. I want to open up to you! Mandy, do you mind?" asked Cynthia.
My mother licked Cynthia's hand; indicating that she wanted her to continue her story.
"I peered out the window then scanned the entire area. Thankfully, there was nobody in sight. Otherwise, I would've had to wait it out. I wasn't in the mood to see anyone.
Mandy, I'm sorry for repeating myself over and over again, but, I was in so much pain! It seemed like the earth had stopped revolving. Nothing mattered to me anymore. A hundred stakes through my heart would've been easier for me to have endured. Even being burnt at the stake would've been a more viable option than my gang-rape ordeal.
As soon as I'd built up enough courage, I exited the dreaded room then went downstairs. Believe me, it was a very painful, anxiety-laden walk. Slight sounds startled me intensely. Even the sudden appearance of my shadow almost gave me a heart attack!
Every step I took towards my sorority house got me further away from the scene, but closer to other humans.
As soon as I got to within a block of my sorority house, I took notice of three GSC students staggering in my direction. I hid behind a blue van then waited until they were gone. I didn't want them to see me. Deep down, I felt dirty and pathetic. Besides, they were all guys. I didn't want them to attack me. Mandy, I wasn't being paranoid, really!
I entered the property through the front lawn at 8:30 A.M. Most of my sorority sisters were zonked out from a long night of intense partying. After slowly opening the sorority house door, I entered it taking 'panther-like-steps'. Meanwhile, I was constantly scanning the area.
Although I didn't see anyone, it seemed like countless eyes and ears in all directions were cast upon me. I was the victim! As if I was guilty of some terrible wrongdoing.
As soon as I reached the door to my room, I slowly pulled out my keys. Because I had the 'jittery-jumps' my keys dropped onto the carpet. I picked them up then held them firmly with both hands. Then, I quickly entered my room, and closed the door behind me. I made sure it was locked.
I found myself on my bed crying my brains out. It was a terrible scene. I couldn't wake up any of my sorority sisters because they were hung-over from the night before. In addition, who amongst them would truly consider me an innocent victim? I wondered.
I slept for a couple of hours then grudgingly awakened. Still exhausted and feeling 'crummy', I decided to drink a large glass of orange juice. I was so dehydrated, the orange juice felt like a super-energy drink. So, I fixed myself another one; except this time I stirred a couple of eggs into the orange juice.
It was then that I decided to stop drinking alcohol, altogether. Henceforth, I'd always be sober, alert, and ready to defend my honor and dignity!
Safety precautions are always important. Mandy, don't think that this is some kind of a guarantee. Guarantees don't exist! They just don't!
If the young men who gang-raped me had canines and claws, they'd have eaten me too! It's true!
For some unknown reason, I didn't go to the police station. Maybe, I was too humiliated to tell my story. Who knows?
As days turned into weeks, my anger increased. When my feelings turned into rage, I finally decided to seek justice.
On a cloudy Sunday morning, my need to seek justice became overwhelming. I decided to go to the Grayson Police Station (GPS). Believe me, I got the jitters! The thought of having to tell my story over-and-over-again was terrifying. How would the police react if I cried my brains out? Would they shed crocodile tears, genuinely care, or snicker at me? These thoughts were ringing in my head.
I'm thankful to have chosen a Sunday to go to the GPS, rather than a weekday. Knowing that my friends would be hungover Sunday morning was quite reassuring.
I went alone, with the intent of returning alone. No exceptions, whatsoever!
My friends were becoming very suspicious of my behavior. They'd noticed a drastic personality change in me. No longer was I the 'muggy' person they once knew. The first girlfriend who tried to hug me got a shove, then a tantrum! Although I apologized to her afterwards, both she and my other girlfriends thought I was becoming a 'don't touch me bitch'. Why didn't they know I was suffering so much? Weren't they supposed to be my loving friends? Can't other women tell when one of 'their own' has suffered a gang-rape? Where's the empathy?
I showered, dried-up, put on my cloths, ate breakfast, then brushed and flossed. Afterwards, I washed the dishes and utensils. Finally, I left my sorority house.
Although it was a ten minute walk to the GPS, it seemed like a hundred years' walk. Or, more like the 'Hundred Years Civil War'. I stopped at least a dozen times; going back then resuming my walk. On my way back, I'd change my mind, over and over again. I actually thought I was becoming an obsessive compulsive personality type. That walk almost drove me up the wall. It was like I was fighting with myself.
But, it was the thought of those gang-rapists 'doing' another innocent victim that got me to complete my walk to the GPS. I didn't want another 'sister' to have to endure what I'd endured from those gang-rapists. I was almost certain they'd done it before, and intended to do it again.
As soon as I was within spitting distance of the GPS entrance, I made an impromptu rehearsal of what I was going to tell the officers and detectives. When I finished rehearsing, I entered the GPS.
Instantly, it seemed like everyone, even the inanimate objects therein, were staring at me. I'd never felt that selfconscious before.
Mandy, I wasn't paranoid, really.
For a minute, I thought everyone in the world knew about my ordeal. The 'openly known secret', is what I called it. Suddenly, I received a rush of fear through my veins. Was I beginning to go mad? I hoped not!
I walked ten steps then was abruptly met by a couple of police officers sitting behind a counter. Nobody could go beyond this point without being cleared. Even police stations need to take security precautions," said Cynthia.
"Madam, how can we help you?" asked the male officer.
“Yes, officer, I want to file a criminal complaint regarding a gang-rape that happened exactly forty five days ago,” said Cynthia.
Initially, the police officers were kind and cordial. They asked me if I wanted something to drink; if I'd only known.
"Yes, I'll have a pop, please. Diet, if you don't mind. Normally, I'd never ask for something to drink. But, my throat felt like sandpaper. No wonder, I was about to spill my guts to total strangers. I understood that they were officers of the law. Unfortunately, that didn't make them blood kin.
A short while later I found myself drinking a diet pop. The carbonated pop and the caffeine made me feel a bit better," said Cynthia.
"Young woman, what's your name?" asked the male officer.
"My name is Cynthia Corbett."
"I'm Sergeant Frank Belmont, and this is Officer Linda Taylor. Please follow us to the interview room. We'll try to make this as painless as possible.
“Wait, are you the victim? Or a witness?” asked Officer Taylor.
"Damn it! I’M THE FREAKING VICTIM! And, I'm the freaking witness! I demand that you get those bastards! I want 'them' to be hanged by their testicles until they die ... twice!” shouted Cynthia.
I followed Sergeant Belmont and Officer Taylor to the interview room. If felt like I had a giant tire in my stomach. I was so furious, nervous, and sad.
Somehow, deep in my heart, I felt that the police officers had no 'true empathy' for me.
Officer Taylor looked like she could hold her ground. She probably thought I should’ve done so myself.
Thankfully, I was still a young, gorgeous, rich, and educated woman. I was well-dressed and clean.
The corridor was well-lit, containing interview rooms and interrogation rooms aligned on each side. As soon as we were in front of the interview room door, Sergeant Belmont and Officer Taylor asked me to enter before them.
As soon as I entered the interview room, Sergeant Belmont left. Then, an attractive blond entered the interview room. She was tall, athletic-looking, and wasn't wearing a uniform," said Cynthia.
"Hello, Madam. I'm Detective Lauren Spencer. I'll be one of the detectives working on your case. Please answer a few simple questions, before we begin the interview.
Tell me your name, date of birth, place of residence, place of birth, and occupation. I'm sorry for having to ask you all of these questions. We must create a file for your case. In a short while, a specially-trained social worker will interview you. She can give you much information regarding therapy, coping, and prevention.
Afterwards, she'll take you to the Grayson Rape Recovery Center (GRRC). They have a special clinic for cases like yours. You must have a 'special' physical examination, also. Don't worry we've been blessed because the services at the GRRC is absolutely free! That's the least they can do for you, or any other victim. The GRRC receives funding from the city, state, and donations from individuals and corporations.
Of course, your physician will be a woman. We understand that for the time being, it'll be quite difficult for you to have to live on the same planet as men do. Remember, there are men who've been victimized by women, too. Generally, their victimization isn't through rape. It comes in various other forms. Besides, there are countless good men out there who've done much good for sexual assault victims."
"I felt like punching that little harlot in her face! How could she call me a sexual assault victim?! I'm a full-fledged rape victim!
Mandy, I freaking hate it when people, especially other women, downplay a serious rape!" shouted Cynthia.
“Miss Corbett, I understand that you've probably destroyed much of the evidence. You washed your clothes, bathed, and unfortunately, let time pass," said Detective Spencer.
"Mandy, I felt like hurling a chair at that harlot-littlebitch! Also, I wanted to bite her very hard! And curse her too! How could that little harlot reprimand me?! I was the victim!
Mandy, how am I supposed to know exactly how to behave after enduring the shock of my life?!" shouted Cynthia.
"Well, you're here. I guess you decided to come forward. I must warn you: the system can be extremely cruel, cold, and rough. We've got too many cases at hand, as is. Not that your case isn't important. Our criminal justice system is overflowing with criminals, bills, paperwork, and other problems. It's like Niagara Falls" said Officer Taylor.
Now, both 'WOMEN' were getting on my case. Perhaps, they'd been 'blunted'. I mean, they'd seen one victim after another. It was like working in one of Ford's early assembly-line factories.
“No! Here's the proof! I didn't wash everything in the freaking washer!
My panties are in this plastic bag. In addition, I remember tidbits of what happened to me.
The gang-rape occurred exactly forty five days ago," said Cynthia.
Officer Taylor gently pulled the plastic bag from my hand. Afterwards, she reassured me that the crime lab would work diligently to obtain any and all evidence pertaining to this case. The article in the evidence bag would be placed in a safe and secure place; the evidence room.
Somehow, I didn't believe it. Something was terribly wrong. It was just beyond the horizon. I'd have to wait it out. The bombshell was on its way.
Although I cried my brains out throughout the process, I managed to convey my story to Detective Spencer and to Officer Taylor. I had a catharsis; leaving no details untold. Mandy, let me backtrack a bit. The longer I rambled on, the more impatient Detective Spencer and Officer Taylor became. Officer Taylor kept looking at her watch. It was like she had an important date with her boyfriend, or something. I noticed that she wasn't wearing a ring on her finger. Was I keeping her from her date? Or, was she waiting to make love to her handsome boyfriend?
Detective Spencer looked like she wanted to swat flies," said Cynthia.
"There's just one thing that I don't quite understand. At any time, do you remember being naked while the men were raping you?" asked Detective Spencer.
"Please, don't say 'naked'! I don't want to hear that word again! I'm sorry for being this way! I can swallow the word 'undressed', or 'nude'!" shouted Cynthia.
We'll use the term you're most comfortable with, for now. However, if we go to court, anything goes," responded Officer Taylor.
Mandy, as soon as Officer Taylor ended her sentence, I felt a burning sensation in my stomach. In other words, I was terrified of going to court.
Here I was a victim in distress, only to be manhandled by the same criminal justice practitioners who were supposed to be helping me.
Detective Spencer and Officer Taylor left the interview room. Shortly afterwards, Sergeant Belmont entered the interview room. He was carrying a notepad. He was writing something down.
At that point, I almost left the police station. In addition to being terrified of being alone in a strange room with a man, I was totally exhausted. I was about to call it quits. Somehow, I felt alone. It was like nobody in the entire universe understood my predicament, even other rape victims.
They left me in a strange room with an armed man! Soon, I began to feel extremely tense and uncomfortable. Where were my sisters in arms, I almost shouted my brains out. How could they do this to me?!
This man was bigger, stronger, and a lot tougher than me. I could feel giant beads of sweat dribbling from my armpits. My breathing became very shallow and labored. My eyelids began to twitch, and I instinctively clinched my fists. Then, I instinctively pulled my thighs together. Nobody was going pull my thighs apart! Absolutely nobody! Not even a detective!
When Officer Taylor returned, she told me that I was most likely gang-raped. Duh, like I didn't freaking know.
Also, she told me that although it would be difficult to find the perpetrators, she'd take the case very seriously. I had to interrupt Officer Taylor.
"But, in my original statement, I told you that Jeff was one of the perpetrators. What the hell's going on here?! Why wasn't Jeff arrested for raping me! Or, at least questioned?" I asked.
The interview process felt like it took a hundred years. I was asked to repeat my story over and over, without any let-up. I felt like 'I' was a suspect being interrogated for my own gang-rape.
Finally, after much pressure from me, Detective Spencer asked me to tell her the names of all of the people at the party. Everyone even the females. The list was long. Many of the persons on the list had just graduated from GSC. Unofficially, it was a Fall Semester graduation party. Some people end up graduating in December, rather than in May.
While I was calling out the names of the males, I performed a quick profile, wondering if 'the guy' was capable of raping me. Except for Jeff, I really couldn't tell. I couldn't believe any of those guys could hurt me in that way.
When I finished calling out all of the names, I broke down, again. I cried like a baby. Tears streamed down my cheeks, like Niagara Falls.
Officer Taylor looked at me cold-faced. Something had changed. It's like she'd had enough of my crying and bitching. Deep down, I think she was a bit pissed off at me. She was probably the kind of woman who believes that a girl must always fight back. Never mind, I was chemically immobilized. Officer Taylor gave me her card, but also a bit of 'blunt truth'.
"Call me if you remember anything else. Sometimes memories of events need cues to be brought out. Memories of particular events related to rape can return years later. We'll do our part here.
Now, I want to tell you something very important: often times, rapists escape justice. It's not because the criminal justice practitioners involved want it that way. Memories often fade. Defendants often withdraw their complaints. Top-notch defense attorneys do an incredible job defending a guilty party. Overpopulation in the prison system, and too many cases to deal with, are certainly an energy drainer.
Listen: the system is often cold and rough to rape victims. Remember, each and every suspect is innocent until proven guilty. Guilty beyond any reasonable doubt, that is. That's the final rule regarding conviction, or acquittal. I'm sorry, but this is the real world," said Officer Taylor.
I almost puked my brains out. I became dizzy, apathetic, and confused. I didn't know who was worse, the gang-rapists, or our criminal justice system. The system that I was supposed to seek help from was cold, rough, and impersonal. Wow! My rapists had those same characteristics.
"You'll have to repeat your entire story over and over again. In a court of law, the defense attorney is your enemy. He/she is supposed to give the defendant the best defense, and fastest deal. Chances are that your case will be plea bargained. That is, if it goes to trial," said Detective Spencer.
If this Jeff guy's rich, his parents will hire a top notch attorney. You'll have to sludge your way through the justice process. But, either way, we'll proceed some," said Detective Spencer.
I wondered what was going on. I felt like everyone thought I was a super harlot. I was starting to lose it. For the second time, the thought of backing down from this ordeal entered my mind. The pain of carrying my story through a long process was terrifying. But, part of me also wanted justice. This was the part of me that was willing to die just to see those gangrapists do hard time. I wanted them to do hard time as sexual offenders. Then, they'd almost feel what I felt. I say almost, because I was a completely innocent victim. My tormentors were as guilty as sin; each and every one of them.
Several persons entered the interview room then left. I had a hard time focusing on matters. Mandy, I was pooped!
Detective Spencer left the room as soon as the interview ended. A social worker sat with me for roughly fifteen minutes. She consoled and comforted me. Thankfully, she made me feel a bit better. I understood that every subsequent day was a new day.
Upon awakening in the morning, the first thought that enters my mind is the gang-rape. How could anyone expect anything else?

The social worker walked me out of the interview room, to the parking lot. We waited for a couple of minutes, until a slim, attractive policewoman approached us. She looked like a ‘little doll’ in her mid-twenties. Because I was also a beautiful woman, it felt nice seeing one of my own there to help me.

"I'm Officer Hauser. I'll be taking you to the GRRC. Although it's called a center, there's a clinic on the premises. The GRRC is for women who've been physically, mentally, or sexually abused. The staff and volunteers are well-trained, and really do care about their patients. Some of the staff workers and volunteers are survivors of incest and rape. You can really open up to them. They kind of know how you feel.

Unfortunately, GRRC is in need of more volunteers and more funding. Often times, these centers are underfunded. Staff is usually overworked and underpaid. Hopefully, the situation will change for the better, soon.
Follow me to my police car."

"We followed Officer Hauser to the police car then entered it. After turning on the ignition, Officer Hauser proceeded to exit the parking lot.

The ride took roughly ten minutes. Meanwhile, I was trying to forecast the next fifty years of my life. I had much suffering to endure. Also, I was now well-aware that the gang rapists probably wouldn't be punished for their heinous crime. I pictured them giving each other high-fives. They'd certainly have many 'sweet stories' to tell their friends.

A few years into the future, every single one of those gang rapists would probably be married. Each one of their wives would think that she was married to the sweetest man in the whole world. If I ever found out who their wives were, I'd be the biggest party-popper, ever. I'd confront their wives, one at a time. I'd tell them what their husbands did to me; sparing no detail.

Hopefully, their marriages would end. Or, so I'd think. I mean, maybe, their husbands would use cunning and lies to discredit me. They're cunning as is.

Mandy, what about my future husband? I was a die-hard virgin before the gang-rape. You can only be a virgin once. Once it breaks, you can never fix it!

I lost my virginity in the worst possible way! Would I ever be able to fall in love with a man?" asked Cynthia.
"Cynthia, please continue your story. The Wilson won't be back until after midnight. Cynthia, I'm all ears," said my mother.
"As soon as we arrived at the GRRC Main Entrance, Officer Hauser wished us the best of luck, and told us to have a nice day. That harlot didn't even have the decency to walk us into the GRRC.
As soon as we entered the GRRC, the social worker motioned me to stop. It looked like she wanted to tell me something very important.
"Gosh, in all the confusion, I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry ... my name is Linda McMaster. I'm originally from Los Angeles.
I'm married to the most wonderful man in the whole world. I finally managed to put my life back together. I had a rough childhood.
As far back as I can remember I was catapulted from one foster family to the next. I was abused in more ways than one, and neglected in two out of the nine foster families I lived with. I suffered a lot as a child. That's why I became a social worker. I know what it feels like to be used and abused!"
"Linda and I filled out the relevant forms then sat down. There was deafening silence for the next fifteen minutes. I guess neither of us had anything to say.
It didn't take long for tears to stream down my cheeks. I couldn't help it!
I closed my eyes then fell asleep. There was nothing else to do under the circumstances. Just as I began to dream, a nurse called out my name. I was startled by her rough voice.
The nurse asked me to follow her to the examination room. Instantly, I got the jitters. I followed her into the examination room then waited for instructions.
Linda was asked to stay in the waiting room. She looked like she'd gone through the routine many times over," said Cynthia.
"Please, take off your clothes, then put this gown on. Don't feel violated, or humiliated. Many of our patients cringe when we tell them to take their clothes off. Don't worry, you're in good hands," said the nurse.
I felt like SCREAMING MY BRAINS OUT! I felt like I was reviolated'. Sadly, I had to continue through the ordeal. The sooner I left the GRRC, the better. Taking off my clothes had become a much more personal and painful act. For the time being, I didn't want anyone to touch, or even see my nude body.
Shortly afterwards, I was asked to lie down on the hospital bed. NO WAY! How could 'she' do this to me? I wondered. The nurse was confused. Like, I was to blame for my own gangrape.
This nurse was a very old hen. She had so many wrinkles on her face and body she almost looked like a prune.
Back in her prime, women were expected to obey their man at all times. Gang-rapes 'didn't happen'. But, if they ever did happen, the victim was almost always a willing accomplice.
No doubt, this nurse was harboring ill feelings towards me. I wanted to bitch her out. Also, I wanted to violently shake her.
But, because I was being treated free of charge, I kept quiet," said Cynthia.
My mother interrupted Cynthia's story in order to correct her misinterpretation of events.
"Cynthia, I don't think that nurse harbored any ill feelings towards you. I mean, you were in such terrible pain. Maybe, you were getting a bit paranoid. I can see that you were suspicious of just about everyone who was supposed to help you," said my mother.
In response, Cynthia went totally ballistic on my mother. I must say, without any right, whatsoever.
"Mandy! YOU DON'T FREAKING LOVE ME! You're like those evil people who hurt me badly. You don't care about me! How could you hurt me?! You, of all people! I don't want to ever see you again!" shouted Cynthia.
"Please, Cynthia, I love you dearly. I'm a cat! Cats don't go around hurting people without just cause! Let alone, dehumanize them!
Cynthia, you're a really sweet person who has endured much pain and humiliation. Please, don't think that I'd ever try to hurt you physically, or emotionally. You were very sick and in much pain. Okay, if you say that 'she' was trying to hurt you, then, that's the way it was," responded my mother.
My mother gently pawed, and patted Cynthia's chin. Afterwards, she licked Cynthia's face. In return, Cynthia held my mother tightly, and kissed her between the ears. In effect, the two had made up.
Cynthia sniffled a bit then wiped her tears.
"Mandy, please don't do that again. You don't know what it feels like to be gang-raped by a group of thugs. These guys were creeps. Worse yet, Jeff was supposed to be one of my closest friends. He was supposed to protect me from all sorts of dangers. Instead of leading the 'rape pack', he was supposed to have stood between me and the rapists, like an iron shield. I've been betrayed too many times," said Cynthia.
Cynthia stood up, ran into the restroom. She violently closed the door then began to do her awful thing.
My mother followed her to the restroom door. She cropped her ears then listened intently.
Unfortunately, it was the same old story. Cynthia was inducing a series of vomiting and dry heaving spells. It lasted for several minutes. After Cynthia was done, she brushed her teeth, flossed then rinsed her mouth with mouthwash. Before exiting the restroom, Cynthia washed her hands and face with soap and water, then dried up.
Cynthia exited the restroom looking like a pale zombie. At that point, my mother threatened to end their friendship forever. She made it clear to Cynthia that there would be no more episodes. No more anorexia or bulimia. These two killers were only making matters worse for the two of them.
"Cynthia, you can't solve any of your problems by puking, or dry heaving your brains out. You'll only create new problems," said my mother.
"I'm sorry Mandy. I promise never to do it again. Actually, I've really had it with the side effects attached to puking and dry heaving. I can't handle it anymore. If you promise that you'll always love me and be my best friend in the whole world, I'll promise to quit this nasty habit, forever," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia, I promise! I'll always be your best friend in the whole world," responded my mother.
My mother asked Cynthia to continue her sad story, without any more interruptions.
“A short while later, a 'female physician' entered the examination room. She scanned me with her eyes, like an alien scanning a human strapped to an examination bed.
Again, I had a sudden urge to scream my head off! I hated what'd happened to me. But, the way my 'helping hands' treated me was also bad. Even at the police station, it seemed like everyone spoke to me in a condescending manner.
For a moment, I wondered if I should have forgotten what had happened. It seemed like I'd have to endure much more pain and discomfort, if I continued with my campaign for justice.
The physician was tall, slim, freckled faced, and as cold as ice. She reminded me of the Mona Lisa painting. No doubt, she'd been through this process many times before. I guess after a while, a person can become insensitive and rough on the edges,” said Cynthia.
"I'm Dr. Elizabeth Saxon. Cynthia Corbett, I'll be examining you. You'll feel a bit uneasy at first. Rest assured we're here to help you. After the examination, I'll give you a card with a very important phone number written on it. It's a free 24-hour support line for female victims of sexual assault."
It annoys me when people like you use 'cushioned terms' to describe horrific incidents. I want to go home!" shouted Cynthia.
"Cynthia, I'm sorry you feel that way. You're the very first victim who's made that kind of complaint. Rest assured the word 'assault' in this context is very intense and serious. Nobody in this center will downgrade, or trivialize any aspect of your suffering. Please believe what I've just told you," said Dr. Saxon.
"I came to my senses then apologized for my outburst. I won't call it unjustifiable, but, perhaps I shouldn't have gone ballistic. That's what I thought at the time. I didn't know that there was more 'humiliation' to come. I guess I was still sensitive and hurting," said Cynthia.
"Kindly disrobe. I must examine your entire body; privates and non-privates. Normally, this is done immediately after, or shortly after the assault. I want to touch all bases. Just in case," said Dr. Saxon.
"She used the ‘disrobe’ word and the 'touch' word. I didn't like it, but, I held out.
The examination was extremely humiliating. I really felt like a 'vivisected creature'. Even though I'd apologized for the outburst, I was still pissed off as all hell. Dr. Saxon asked me very personal questions, and touched me in extremely sensitive areas. It was like I was being 'touched' all over again.
Throughout the examination process, tears dribbled down my cheeks. I couldn't hold a single drop back. The pain, agony, suffering, and humiliation, had overpowered all of my natural defenses. If the perpetrators' intent was to use and humiliate me, they got what they wanted.
If any one of them had had a heart, he'd repent then take an oath never to rape anyone again. Especially me!
Paranoia and other mental 'destroyers' are common among victims. The memories were eating away at me. Maybe I did fully awaken during the gang rape; on-and-off. That's probably why I was remembering more and more of the rape, as time passed.
If I could've remembered just a bit more, the police would've had a solid case. Certainly, I'd accept no excuses or explanations from the creeps. Prison time is what I would demand! Only in prison, would they get what they truly deserve!
The police are trained to interrogate suspects, and are skilled in the art of detection. That is, they can often sense when a person's concealing something. A line must be drawn between a thorough and vigilant interrogation, and harassment of a potentially innocent suspect. Regardless of how serious the crime, all suspects should have their rights respected by the participants of the criminal justice system. Remember, you're hearing this from a victim of an extremely heinous crime.
Interrogators should never be allowed to use torture or extreme intimidation on suspects. For one thing, I've always been against sleep deprivation. It's a form of torture. So is wash- boarding, and countless other actions.
Individuals working for any government who support this kind of awful treatment are double evil! Not only are they supporting torture, but often times they say it isn't torture. They’re the ones who are supposed to protect us from torture. Let them go through the torture process. Then, they'll know what it feels like.
Mandy, cats have had a rocky relationship with humans. Many of your brethren, past and present, have been tortured by a minority of cruel humans.
I felt like I was living in a cage! Nobody in the whole world knew what I felt in my heart. Not even another gang-rape victim. Each person has her/his own suffering.
My mood and thinking began to sway as the clock ticked. I began to have doubts about attaining justice in my case. First, I waited too long to consult the police. Second, the 'hard evidence' was probably polluted. Third, I'd done what no rape victim should ever do: I took many showers from the time of the incident, to the time of my formal criminal complaint.
At the end of the examination Dr. Saxon informed me that the results of the blood test would be given to me within a week," said Cynthia.
"Well, Cynthia, I have to be honest with you. I see no signs of S.T.D. s, or pregnancy. We must wait until the results of your blood test are in. I'm sorry, but that's the reality of the matter," said Dr. Saxon.
"Doctor Saxon, does that include HIV and AIDS?!" I shouted.
"Yes, even HIV, AIDS. But, you’re lucky they didn’t impregnate you,” answered Dr. Saxon.
I was so dilapidated, my back actually slouched. I felt like the hunchback of Notre Dame. I left the examination room in dire straits. By the time I was ready to go home, the only thing on my mind was sleep. Linda and a GRRC technician escorted me to the parking lot.
Mandy, to tell you the truth, I was so out of it! I can't remember if I left the GRRC in the daytime, or nighttime.
I told Linda I didn't want ride back to the sorority house. I wanted to take a long walk home. I didn't want to see or speak to another human being.
I'd inadvertently lowered my guard. Because it was a long walk back to the sorority house, any creep lurking in the shadows could've leaped out and done me again.
As I was walking back to the sorority house, I noticed a congregation of birds hunched on a large branch. They were staring at me. I hated it!
It appeared as though these birds suspected that I'd been gang-raped. I didn't know if they felt sorry for me, or if they blamed me for the gang-rape," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia, as a general rule, animals don't think that way. Maybe, those birds were admiring you. Or, maybe, they thought you were very beautiful. You shouldn't have had ill feelings towards them," said my mother.
"Mandy! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE! I thought we were best friends! Why can't you agree with me on anything?!" shouted Cynthia.
My mother managed to calm Cynthia down. Luckily, she convinced Cynthia that the three birds weren't staring at her because of the gang-rape. Nor, did they feel sorry for her.
My mother gently pawed Cynthia's chin, then licked the back of her hand several times. In return, Cynthia gave my mother a kiss on the cheek. For the time being, all was well.
"Cynthia, please believe me when I say that you're an incredibly strong and resilient woman. You're also kind, intelligent, and fun to be with. Please don't keep lashing out at me like that. Remember, just because I'm a cat, it doesn't mean that I don't have any feelings," said my mother.
"I'm sorry for being a total bitch. Mandy, you're a sweet kitty who's full of love, kindness, and empathy," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia! There you go again! You just called yourself a total bitch. You're not a bitch! You were reacting to a very painful experience," said my mother.
Cynthia promised my mother never to call herself a bitch again, regardless of the circumstances. My mother convinced Cynthia that using derogatory terms against oneself was always counterproductive.
Cynthia walked back to the sorority house then crashed out for many hours. For several days, she pondered about whether she should drop her criminal complaint, or not. She was getting tired of all the waiting and apprehension. Criminal trials are very stressful and time consuming.
"A week later, the police gave me a call. They had a suspect. I was told to go to the police station then proceed to room number 21. I got out of bed like a rocket.
I was still wondering why they didn't arrest Jeff at the beginning of the process. Maybe, they were waiting for hard evidence? Who knows?
I ended up walking to the GPS feeling like a zombie that had just come back to life. It was a very stressful walk, indeed. Aside from knowing that Jeff was guilty, I really didn't know who the other gang-rapists were. Once again, I got the jittery-jumps. Every time I heard a noise, my pulse and blood pressure skyrocketed.
I was terrified the guilty parties would seek me out and 'do me' again. Worse yet, kill me. The police couldn't protect me for the rest of my life. Even if they did, what kind of life would that be? I just wanted everything to go back to what it was like before the gang-rape. I would've given anything for that to have happened.
After being cleared for entry, I slowly walked to room number 21. Shockingly, I was forced to endure another bout of the jittery-jumps.
A police officer, who was at least 6 feet 6 inches tall and weighed over 300 pounds, cut me off. His enormous size made me feel like a helpless little child. For a second, I thought that he was about to molest me. Maybe, to him, I looked like a cute little child," said Cynthia.
Luckily, my suspicions were unfounded.
"Madam, may I help you? Are you okay?" asked the officer.
"I'm going to room number 21. I want justice! Please, don't hurt me!" shouted Cynthia.
Two policewomen intervened during my shouting routine. They instructed me to follow them. One of them told me that I'd be safe, and that the suspect wouldn't be able to see me behind the 'special window'.
While walking to room number 21, I got rubbery-legged. Then I felt a cold rush run through my entire body. I was terrified! I was ready to ask the police to end it once and for all. I didn't want to see that creep's face! I believed that seeing his face would be a shocker! It would bring back terrible memories and flashbacks.
With every step I took, my fear doubled. It almost felt like I was an unarmed gladiator being forced to fight a hungry lion inside a Roman arena. Even with two policewomen walking beside me, it made no difference whatsoever.
Noticing my fear, the policewomen tried to comfort me with kind and comforting words. They convinced me to keep going at it. I reluctantly continued walking. I understood it was their job to say those kind words to me. I mean, each one probably had a husband, or a boyfriend to go back to. They'd go back home at the end of the day, and forget me. They'd be with their love; making love. I'd return to nothing but more pain, anxiety, tension, guilt, and confusion. I had no husband to comfort me.
As soon as we entered room number 21, a tall, chubby, redhaired man motioned me to take a seat. A policewoman sitting beside him scanned my body like an elevator then she looked down at her clipboard. She appeared to be a bland character. Maybe, she thought badly of me. It was almost like she blamed me for what'd happened.
Both policewomen who escorted me to room number 21 said goodbye, then wished me the best of luck. I never saw them again.
The chubby man introduced himself as Detective Frank Holliday.
Detective Holliday day was gray-haired, and balding. He gave me instructions about what to do and how to pick out an individual from a lineup.
"Again, I felt like shouting my brains out! What happened to the other detective assigned to my case? Was she living it up in Hawaii? I wondered.
I was asked to stand in front of the special window, without being afraid to identify the perpetrator/s of the gangrape.
Detective Holliday then told me to take my time; to look intently and with full concentration. It was extremely important that I was to tell the absolute truth, and not identify someone in the lineup just to please the police. After all, the police were there to help me. Or, were they?
One-by-one, I looked at the faces of the men in the lineup. When I got to number 5, tears ran down my cheeks. Then I began to hyper ventilate. Thankfully, it only lasted for a short while.
Detective Holliday and the female officer tried to comfort me as best they could. Eventually, I was able to resume the identification process.
Detective Holliday day couldn't do anything on the official level until I gave him a verbal answer. Crying is not an answer. Detective Holliday day asked me if I wanted to tell him something about number 5. I told him that number 5 was one of the rapists. Seeing his face in the lineup brought back many repressed memories.
I remembered the shape of his nose, freckles, and scar on his neck. Also, I remembered feeling his ring pressed against my lips. Also, his ferocious face was hovering over mine. Before, during, and after he 'entered me'.
Although he was a very handsome young man, I considered him uglier than sin; that's not a hyperbole.
Detective Holliday day asked me again. I gave him the same response. He explained to me that it was standard procedure for the police to be certain of the answer given to them, regarding this kind of questioning.
Moments later, Detective Holliday day pressed the intercom button then ordered that number 5 be taken-in for interrogation for ‘aggravated rape’.
I felt relieved as soon as I heard the words ‘aggravated rape’. If I only knew what was really in store for me.
After three hours of tough interrogation, ‘the suspect’ didn't budge. He held his ground. He understood his rights. I was yet to understand mine! I mean, he had 'his attorney', but where was mine?
Detective Holliday escorted me to a special waiting room. I sat down in an uncomfortable chair for what appeared to be forever. I was all alone, except for the clock on the wall. I kept glancing at it, thinking that good news was coming soon. I was in a dream world.
Detective Holliday had spoken to the assistant district attorney concerning my case. There was no confession. Although the semen sample was a perfect match to one of the samples on my panties, it didn't prove that a rape had taken place. In other words, more evidence was needed. An eyewitness to the gang-rape would've been an incredible asset. What about me? I wondered.
Unfortunately, my bruises, scratches, and bite marks, had healed. Yes, bite marks. Those monsters even bit me. Why? I sure as hell never found out.
Mandy, you're probably thinking that I was attacked by a den of lions. That's almost correct.
Detective Holliday approached me then asked me to follow him to another room.
Upon entering the room, Detective Holliday asked me to sit down and brace myself. Brace myself for what? I wondered. As if there could possibly be more bad news on the horizon.
Detective Holliday called the assistant district attorney on his cell phone.
Something wasn’t right. It was obvious to me that Detective Holliday wanted me to be present for the call. It was like he was trying to absolve himself of guilt.
Soon, it became apparent what was to transpire.
Almost immediately, Detective Holliday raised his voice, until his face reddened then it paled.
Detective Holliday's voice became quivery and rough. Then, his voice became aggressive. He began to spurt out nasty words. He obviously didn't like what the assistant district attorney was telling him.
As soon as the conversation ended, Detective Holliday looked at me with somber eyes.
I was totally pissed off! I knew bad news was on its way. Detective Holliday gently pushed a box of tissue paper towards my sweaty hands. Then, he told me to brace myself for hell on earth. I did as I was told.
I'd already had enough bad news in my life. What else could've gone wrong? Mandy, was I naive!
Detective Holliday told me that there was no proof that I was raped by number 5 (Jeff), or any other person. In a court of law, semen on a victim's panties doesn't necessarily prove rape. After all, I wasn't underage. If I'd been a child, the semen would've been enough to move onto the next phase of the criminal justice process.
Also, the fact that I'd waited so long to contact the police; bathed, washed most of my clothing, and hadn't 'announced' the gang-rape to my family and friends, worked against me.
What was I supposed to do: stand in front of the mayor's office and shout to the entire world that I'd just been gangraped?
Furthermore, since I was heavily intoxicated during the alleged incident, my testimony could easily be 'demolished' by any two-bit defense attorney.
I felt like shoving my fist inside Detective Holliday’s cell phone, then punching the district attorney in the nose. You see, I can’t even mention ‘her name’. I have to refer to her only by her stinking title.
The last thing that I wanted to hear was the phrase 'alleged incident'. It either makes me look like a liar, or a two-bit harlot.
I heard those two words coming from the assistant district attorney.
Mandy, was I supposed to forget the shock, humiliation, fear, apprehension, and confusion, that I was feeling; and just go to the police and tell them what had happened to me? Indeed, the system is 'arctic cold' and brutal.
As Detective Holliday continued talking, I went into a 'hallucinatory daze'. I couldn't comprehend who was talking to me. I just heard words and rambling. An officer who entered the room told me that multiple semen samples on a pair of panties could indicate a fraternity practical joke.
Like, they snatched my panties and each of the ‘alleged assailants’ jerked off on them, until ejaculation. Unbelievable! The worst was yet to come.
Detective Holliday's jaw looked like it was about to drop to the floor. Again, he gave me a somber look. Then, he dropped the 'atomic bomb' on my head. He told me that in a court of law, a young, attractive college student who sleeps with a bunch of young men will look like a 'wanted-it-harlot' in the courtroom. Who knows, what an elderly judge would think?
Mandy, I'm not a freaking harlot!" shouted Cynthia.
"I know, darling," responded my mother.
"Detective Holliday advised me to be tested regularly for sexually transmittable diseases, for a period of no less than one year. He also advised me to seek professional help. Then, I should enroll in self-defense classes for women, purchase extra locks, and not go to any 'party animal gatherings'. In a whispered tone, he told me to purchase a firearm.
Finally, the worst bombshell of all! A pretty policewoman suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She advised me to bite the bullet. And, that I looked like a tough little cookie. I understood that the case had ended. There was no use in proceeding through the process. It was like I was trying to free myself from quicksand that was up to my nostrils, and with an elephant sitting on my head.
I'm still so pissed off at that little harlot! I don't even want to remember what she looked like! Where's the sisterhood in all this?
By then, I was so exhausted, humiliated, and fed-up leaving that damn GPS was a priority. As if things weren't horrific enough! I couldn't believe what else I heard.
Detective Holliday took me to the side then calmly told me that the perpetrator's family was very rich and powerful. In fact, his father was a powerful lobbyist for one of the two political parties that have 'unconditional control' of our country. As soon as he finished uttering those words, I felt devastated! If I'd been in better shape, I would've smashed his groin! I would certainly have been arrested for assaulting an officer of the law,” said Cynthia.
At this point, my mother bluntly, but politely, interrupted Cynthia. She had to correct her.
"Cynthia, Detective Holliday wasn't totally at fault. How could you have felt like attacking him? He was trying to help you, but couldn't," said my mother.
"Mandy, YOU DON’T LOVE ME! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE! I was pissed off at the entire criminal justice system! You don't respect me! You're not a nice person!" shouted Cynthia.
"Please, Cynthia, I love you so dearly! You're my best friend in the whole world! I understand that you've undergone an incredibly painful ordeal. But, just think about it for a moment. Detective Holliday would probably have strangled Jeff if he was left alone with him inside that room.
Detective Holliday was a GOOD MAN! Please, Cynthia, don't hate every single man in the whole world. What about the males belonging to other species? Will you hate them too?" asked my mother.
At that point, things cooled off considerably. My mother and Cynthia exchanged hugs and play bites. Once again, they were best friends. Cynthia continued her story.
"Mandy, I don't want you to tell anyone what I'm about to say. Before the gang-rape, I had a gigantic, secret crush on Jeff.
If Jeff had been the only rapist, and afterwards he'd told me that he loved me and wanted to marry me, I would've done just that.
Furthermore, I would've forgiven him for what he'd done to me. The gang-rape aggravated the situation beyond repair. By raping me with his buddies, he destroyed any love I'd had for him ... forever," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia, what if Jeff had proposed, but told you that you'd have to put out for his buddies. Would you have done that?" asked my mother.
"I would've slapped him across the face!" shouted Cynthia.
"Cynthia, if you had married Jeff, he would've used you as a punching bag, and as a starfish," said my mother.
"What do you mean starfish?" asked my Cynthia.
You would've been a sex toy, lying down on your back, and spread eagled. That's what a starfish looks like. Arms and legs wide apart, in 'X' formation," said my mother.
"Mandy, I think you're right. Instead of being raped by a stranger, I would've been raped by my husband. Most of the time, wives who are raped by their husbands endure it. They may eventually leave their husband, but almost never file a criminal complaint. She may go off into the horizon and never return.
I understood that Jeff's parents would be in a position to hire the best defense attorneys. Not to mention ruin my life. I'd end up feeling like a willing partner.
Sadly, I'd originally planned to attend law school. After enduring that horrific gang-rape things changed, irreversibly. I had to move to another part of the United States, where nobody knew me.
It was only a matter of time before the townsfolk and students would hear about my story. Many of them would be sympathetic, while others (females and males) would truly believe that I really wanted it. Why else would a young, attractive college student spread eagle for a bunch of studs? What was I doing all drunk and high at a fraternity party, with guys all around me? Mandy, I just wanted to leave GSC and never return," said Cynthia.

My mother gently pawed Cynthia's face then licked her chin. In return, Cynthia grinned then stroked my mother between her ears. Cynthia was hiding another secret from my mother. My mother's superb feline senses alerted her to this important fact.

What was Cynthia hiding from my mother? It's not like she didn't open up to her. Humans must trust their close animal friends. Think of how many dogs, horses, donkeys, pigeons, and other countless species, have died in the line of duty. They were serving their human 'masters'. Of course, the animals weren't paid for their services.

My mother turned away from Cynthia then leaped onto the floor. She took several steps to the door then turned back. She ‘flashed’ her canines, not in anger, but out of frustration. She didn't like Cynthia’s hiding secret/s from her. My mother's natural feline curiosity forced her to ask Cynthia the big question, point blank.

"Look, I want to hear about your other secret! Please tell me! I know there's more bad news buried deep inside you. You've got tears dribbling down your cheeks, and apprehension in your eyes," said my mother.

"I'm sorry ... I don't ... feel comfortable talking about it. I'll tell you my other secret, if you promise never to tell a soul. It was so horrible, please forgive me for not telling you the first time around," said Cynthia.

"Cynthia, I promise I'll try not to tell anyone about your secret," responded my mother.
My mother rolled over onto her back, then righted herself. Afterwards, she leaped onto Cynthia's chest. Cynthia held my mother tightly then blew her a kiss.
"Mandy, a few days after realizing that justice wasn't going to prevail, I decided to take an early morning walk through the GSC campus. Because the GSC campus was large and beautiful, I considered my walk a workout. In addition, GSC security patrolled the area 24 hours a day. If anyone had tried to assault me, I would've screamed my brains out.
If I'd only known what was going to happen, there would've been no early morning walk. Really!
As I walked by Kelsey Hall, I was struck by a 'GIGANTIC' attack! Sometimes, I feel like this attack was almost as terrible as the gang-rape. It was the 'red flag' that would break my back," said Cynthia.
A group of perhaps a dozen undergrads thought that the gang-rape would somehow benefit them. Apparently, word got around that I was a 'wham-bam-girl'. Indeed, it was a lie!
The undergrads fired terrible words at me, from a dorm room window. Also, their attitude was very nasty. If I was as strong as Superwoman, their necks would've been broken!" said Cynthia.
"Oh baby, come on! We heard you did six guys at the frat house! We've got a whole lot more guys in this room. We've got twelve hungry lions awaiting action.
Just 'cum' over here and make us lions feel better. You can break your previous record, and be in the Guinness Book of World Records!" shouted a creep.
"Leave me alone! I didn't 'do' those beasts! They did me! I was out cold when they took advantage of me!" shouted Cynthia.
"We won't take advantage of you, baby! We'll treat you just fine! We want you to be wide awake, so you can enjoy it! No dozing off!" shouted another creep.
"Mandy, the undergrads mocked me really badly. They wanted to believe that I would oblige them. I was lucky to have enough money to leave California. But, I wanted to humiliate those creeps before I left. All I needed was proof of their utter stupidity. However, I had to nail the flasher. He terrified me!
“Guys, just answer this question, and you can all have me. What is five multiplied by five?" asked Cynthia.
"Umm ... I know what the answer is! Isn't it ... umm ... fifty-five-thousand-five-hundred- and-fifty-five?" answered the 'flasher'.
“I received a bit of satisfaction by showing those creeps that I was an intelligent woman. I was more intelligent than they'd ever be.
Later, the taunting continued without any let-up. It spread throughout the entire city. I couldn't go anywhere without being taunted, or asked stupid questions. Sure, many individuals showed empathy towards me. But, the bad ones were always more aggressive and unforgettable.
It felt like there was no end in sight. My pain wasn’t going away. I began having frequent cry baby fits.
Shockingly, a few weeks after the 'mooning incident, I had to endure another bout with a flasher. Initially, I ignored his chubby cheeks. However, when he turned around, I was forced to endure a horrible flashback. I was totally devastated," said Cynthia.
Cynthia paused then looked up at the ceiling. Afterwards, she looked down onto the carpet. My mother felt like Cynthia wanted to tell her more. So, she pressed her.
"Cynthia, are you being totally honest with me?" my mother asked.
Cynthia broke down. She stood up, took a few steps to her left then collapsed onto her bed. It looked like Cynthia was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown.
Cynthia regained her composure then started to cry. She needed someone who'd shower her with love and empathy; no strings attached. That's the least she was entitled to.
"Mandy, I'm in so much pain! I don't know what to do! Please, don't tell anyone that I cried my brains out. I don't want anyone to think that I'm a cry baby. I have more than enough problems on my mind.
Mandy, I've been having some horrific night terrors, eating problems, and trouble making new 'human' friends. It seems like the only persons I can trust are cats like you. I can open up to animals, especially cats, without feeling ashamed, or watched.
I think it's because I know cats don't want anything 'sexual' from me. I couldn't even trust my girlfriends. Maybe, one of them had a secret crush on me? I wouldn't want that little harlot to get off by touching my beautiful body. I don't need any more of that," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia, I think you're a very nice person. Look, be strong, confident, seek help, learn self-defense for women then get on with your life. I'm sure you'll find MR. RIGHT. Just be patient and faithful.
Cynthia, you're lucky you didn't come out of this with an STD, or a pregnancy. I don't mean 'lucky' in the sense that things weren't terrible for you. I mean, things could've been much worse.
Suppose you were fully-conscious at the time of the rape. Now, they wanted to have their way with you. If you'd put up a struggle, who knows what they would've done to you.
Cynthia, I hope that you pull through this terrible tragedy. Remember, you need to be around other women who've been raped, pure and simple.
Sure, you see women and men all around you, smiling their brains out, often. You can't read their minds. Everyone, even animals, has problems.
Cynthia, I'm not trying to downplay, or trivialize your traumatic experience. I know for certain that you've suffered immensely. If you don't make a serious effort at combating," this problem, you may end up in a mental institution. I'm dead serious!" exclaimed my mother.
I'm glad to say that Cynthia began to show some signs of hope. She understood that living in a cage, without trying to confront her problems, would solve absolutely nothing. This kind of problem must be confronted, head-on!
Unfortunately, my mother and Cynthia were abruptly interrupted. However, their friendship would last forever.
"Mandy! Where are you?! Steve and I want you to come back to our apartment, immediately!" yelled Karen.
The Wilsons had returned from their shopping spree. Cynthia quickly dried her eyes with tissue paper then exited her apartment. She took several steps towards Karen then stopped.
Meanwhile, my mother was trailing Cynthia. It was then that my mother remembered the Wilsons' command not to enter anyone else's apartment.
My mother lowered her head in shame then slowly approached Karen. Afterwards, my mother rubbed the side of her body against Karen's ankles. My mother was hoping for forgiveness. After all, she was only trying to make conversation with one of the neighbors.
"Madam, you have a very lovely cat! Mandy and I had an incredible conversation. Mandy's intelligent, observant, beautiful, and loving," said Cynthia.
"Thank you for being so kind to Mandy! I'm delighted to have a good neighbor like you. Unfortunately, we're leaving Hawaii very soon. We're going back to Missouri.
Wait, were you crying? Please, let me help you," said Karen.
"No, I guess it's my allergies," replied Cynthia.
"I noticed you don't have a ring on your finger. You're young and very attractive. Find a good man. Fall in love with him. Then, get married!
Steve and I are still together after all these years. Our love increases with time. When I wake up in the morning, I don't want to see anyone in the whole world, except for Steve," said Karen.
Immediately, my mother bared her canines.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I also want to see our beautiful baby, Mandy," said Karen.
Karen and my mother said their goodbyes to Cynthia then they returned to their apartment. Karen made certain that my mother wasn't contemplating a return to Cynthia. She carried my mother by the scruff.
Karen told Steve about her conversation with Cynthia. Thankfully, she didn't tell him about my mother's entry into Cynthia's apartment.
It looked like my mother and Cynthia were never going to see each other again. Both parties were very saddened by this abrupt and permanent separation.
My mother and Cynthia were like two halves that were separated from each other. Neither half would ever be complete until it was rejoined with its counterpart.
Thereafter, my mother thought of Cynthia often. Sometimes, tears would dribble down my mother's face whenever she remembered what had happened to Cynthia. My mother often fantasized about reconnecting with Cynthia.
Sadly, my mother could no longer be Cynthia's special therapist. Cynthia needed someone to talk to, long term. Victims who choose to talk to 'someone' are moving in the right direction. The worst thing in the world to do in this kind of case scenario is to stay quiet. I'm sorry, this world isn't perfect.
If my mother had only known what was in store for Cynthia. Maybe, she would've run away from home and stayed with Cynthia.
You see, my mother was the most incredible cat in the whole world! She would've given her life, a hundred times over, to see Cynthia get better.

Friday was travel day. It was warm, sunny, and calm. The Wilsons were finally heading back to Missouri. Although the Wilsons were excited about going back home, they adapted to living in Hawaii. Not to mention the incredible friendships they'd made.

The Wilsons awakened at dawn, showered, dressed then ate breakfast. Steve made certain that the three travelers left the apartment fully satiated. He prepared an incredibly tasty breakfast for all to enjoy.

After the Wilsons finished packing, Karen called Eric. He was notified that the Wilsons were going check out in a short while.

Before formally checking out of their apartment, the Wilsons took a final look at the interior of their temporary vacation home, before locking up. My mother 'peeked' through the bars of her animal carrier, in order to 'imprint' every last detail needed. She understood that it was the last look that she'd ever have.

Steve didn't cave-in to Karen's requests. Although Steve enjoyed his stay in Hawaii, he was still a die-hard 'Missouri Boy', pure and simple.

In life, moving long distances shouldn't be taken lightly. When you visit a town or a city, the grass may appear greener therein. It might be because you're only a vacationer, or a visitor. Living in that particular place for an extended period of time, is another story altogether. Steve understood this point very well. Even cats must be careful about moving out of their lair.

Indeed, my mother loved Cynthia more than she loved the Wilsons, combined. It was a shame that my mother couldn't shower Cynthia with more love and empathy. My mother would've given up her posh life with the Wilsons, if it meant being with Cynthia permanently.

In fact, my mother almost asked Cynthia the big question. The big question being: can I hide in your apartment until the Wilsons leave Hawaii? My mother chickened-out at the last second.

The Wilsons walked through the hall to the elevators. After pressing the down button, Karen stuck her finger inside my mother's animal carrier.

My mother gently bit it then pawed it away. My mother was in no mood to play with anyone. She was too groggy. As expected, she closed her eyes then fell into a deep sleep.

My mother briefly awakened in Eric's office half-dazed and bewildered.
"We had a very enjoyable vacation. We saw much of Hawaii, ate well, met a few good people, took some tours, and walked in many good malls.