From an e-mail I just sent to Mom:

On the subject of my shadow, al-Zill, I intend to rescue and adopt him.  […] I now feel confident that he does indeed have neurological damage.  I suspect it’s from a coyote attack, although I could be wrong.  A car might explain the wounds and problems.  Then again, maybe not.

His wounds have healed with a great deal of effort and care.  He still might need additional treatment depending on the severity of the damage, but I can assure you the infection is gone, the wound is healing nicely, and he’s in much better condition now than he was six weeks ago.

I said on the blog that I don’t need seven cats.  Nevertheless, I can’t ignore the situation.  He won’t survive without intervention.  And I won’t leave him behind knowing the fate bearing down on him without my protection.  I can’t do it.  I can’t be that callous, that heartless, that uncaring and unnoticing.  So I’ll mess up my finances even more by tending to his needs, getting him healthy, and giving him a home.

He’ll cause more chaos with the other six cats, I know, but I consider myself an expert at this now.  I can do it.  He’ll fit in fine, he’ll make friends, he’ll be safe, and I won’t carry the scars of inhumanity that haunt me for every life I can’t save, every bit of mercy I fail to show.  That’s not the person I am and it’s not the person I want to be.  So I sacrifice, I give in to my better nature, and I curse those who look at me crosswise simply because they can be vile and ghoulish without blinking, they can be selfish sans a bit of care for those hurt along the way.

That’s just not me.  It hasn’t been, isn’t, and won’t be.  Ever.

From a recent telephone conversation with xocobra:

xocobra: “What if he’s critically wounded?  What if he can never be healthy and happy?”

Me: “Then so be it.  I’ll give him the life he can enjoy while he can enjoy it.”

“What happens if the doctor says he needs to be put down?”

“I’ve always erred on the side of quality versus quantity.  If he can’t have a comfortable, happy life, I’ll make the decision that needs to be made.  I’d rather he wallow in some goodness for a short time than suffer through agony for a long time.”

“Thank you.  Thank you for saying that.  Thank you for being that way when it comes to what matters.”

Truth be told, however, I fear for what Randy said in his latest missive:

And at the same time, I think you know that you are perilously close to having someone […] show up at your door for harboring too many animals.

How so very accurate an observation.

Seven?  Too many?

Perhaps.

But I can’t ignore compassion.  Benevolence is my way, I’m afraid, and I must do what I must do.

Scheming and plotting a capture now appear the necessities of the day.  To secure, to evade, and to provide.

I’ll go from there.