The Unseen Stray Cat on Rainy Days: Preparing to Truly Take Responsibility Someday

The Unseen Stray Cat on Rainy Days: Preparing to Truly Take Responsibility Someday

The area right behind my current house is a small patch of woods. ​While I love how quiet and full of nature it is, a little while ago, I started hearing a cat meowing from somewhere deep inside—or perhaps just at the edge of—those woods. ​It happens especially on rainy nights. When the sound of the gentle rain grows quiet, I hear a faint, helpless "meow..." mixed in with the night air. It sounds so incredibly lonely. I imagine it’s probably crying out there even when the rain is pouring down hard. ​Thinking back, around New Year’s Day this year, two stray cats were having a massive fight back there during the afternoon. They were vocalizing loudly for a long time. I figured it was a territorial dispute, and since it only happened that one day, I felt a sense of relief, selfishly thinking, "Maybe they moved on to another place." ​But the voice I’ve started hearing again isn’t a growl or the typical call of mating season. It is a truly sorrowful, fragile cry. ​Every time that voice drifts inside, a tense energy fills our home. We have two cats of our own, whom we welcomed into our family through an adoption event, and they are incredibly sensitive to outside sounds and voices. They stare intently toward the window, puff up their tails, and go into complete alert mode. ​My cats are curled up, completely safe and relaxed in a warm room—or these days, a cool, air-conditioned room. Meanwhile, another cat is crying out there in the cold rain. The moment we hear it, my family and I mute the TV, look at each other as if to say, "You heard that too, right?" and are left with a complicated, indescribable feeling. ​I have always been deeply interested in rescue cat welfare. But precisely because of that, I never want to engage in reckless, irresponsible feeding just out of pity. I always tell myself that I shouldn’t do it. Feeding them is the easy part. But if you cannot carry the responsibility for that animal’s life until the very end, you shouldn’t step in so lightly. I’ve kept telling myself this over and over. ​While I’ve been caught in this dilemma, the forecast for my area tomorrow calls for rain. I haven’t heard the voice recently. I wonder if I’ll hear it tomorrow. ​When the voice goes silent, it brings a different kind of worry. I find myself feeling anxious, wondering if the cat collapsed out there, or trying to reassure myself that some kind soul must have rescued it. ​Right now, there is nothing I can do. It feels incredibly frustrating, but I know it’s because the current me lacks both the knowledge and the readiness to take that step. ​That’s why, from here on out, I want to start learning more about how local rescue networks and animal welfare structures work in my area. ​Someday in the future, if I ever encounter a situation like this again, I don’t want to just end up feeling heartbroken and saying, "How sad." I want to be the kind of person who can take action with real responsibility. ​I am still just a beginner right now. But so that I can proudly face these lives one day, I stand here looking at tomorrow’s weather forecast and the now completely silent woods, letting these thoughts wash over me. ​If you would like to support my journey and future rescue cat activities, any help on Ko-fi would be greatly appreciated: 👇🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛👇 ​Support FUMIKOYO on Ko-fi