Here we go again.
Mary Anne stared at her phone, her chest tightening as the familiar, gut-wrenching news flooded her feed. Another stray colony was being removed—cats who had been fed, spayed and cared for by tireless rescuers.
This time, it was happening near the Museum of the Future, that grand, gleaming symbol of innovation and progress. Ironically, the city of the future had no place for these creatures of the present.
Mary Anne’s hand trembled as she scrolled through the comments.
“Where are they dumping them? Does anyone know?”
“Please, we need to find out what’s happened!”
“Please, we need to find out what’s happened!”
Her heart ached for the cats, and anger burned in her chest. Of course, the city wanted to look its best for tourists. The image was everything. More important than the lives of stray cats.
This was a common practice—so common it had become an unspoken rule of the city. Rescuers like Mary Anne poured their time, money, and hearts into feeding these cats, getting them spayed, and nursing them back to health. But all of that could be undone in a single night.
Removed.
That was the word they used - as if it were a polite solution, not a death sentence. Mary Anne knew better. “Removed” meant being dumped in remote industrial areas with no food, no water, no hope. Or worse...
The truth was, no one really knew what happened to all of them. The removals were done under the cover of darkness, as if shame cloaked the act.
But someone always saw.
And the rescuers always knew.
But what could they do?
Mary Anne clenched her fists, the helplessness rising like a wave in her chest. This wasn’t just about losing the cats—it was about the betrayal. With all its wealth and resources, this city could do so much better. Yet, time and again, it chose to sweep these lives under the rug like an inconvenient mess.
Her mind spiraled, trying to imagine what the cats must be going through.
Could anyone comprehend it?
One moment, you’re lying in your territory, waiting for the familiar hand of a kind stranger to offer kibble or stroke your fur. The next, you’re yanked into a cold, confining trap. You cry, but no one answers. You’re driven far away, to a barren wasteland of dust and machinery, where the scent of food and water is replaced by the acrid stench of chemicals.
Can you imagine the terror? The confusion?
Mary Anne felt tears sting her eyes. The cats didn’t understand. They didn’t know why they were taken, why their lives were upended. All they knew was the fear.
The loss.
It broke her heart every time.
The city loved to flaunt its gold-plated image. Skyscrapers that pierced the clouds. Malls so extravagant they had their own waterfalls. A futuristic museum proclaiming progress and innovation.
But Mary Anne couldn’t stop thinking about what lay behind the facade.
She thought about the cats hiding in alleyways, curled in the shadows of dumpsters, waiting for a rescuer to notice them. She thought about the ones already taken, their terrified cries swallowed by the city’s roar.
And she thought about the rescuers. The ones who gave their all, only to have their efforts erased.
How could a city so proud of its progress be so blind to compassion? How could it discard lives so easily?
Every time Mary Anne saw news like this, she felt like the air had been knocked out of her chest. She wanted to fight, to scream, to demand better for the cats who had no voice.
But what could she do?
She stared at her phone, at the countless messages from other rescuers echoing the same helpless despair she felt. Some offered suggestions—emails to send, authorities to contact—but deep down, Mary Anne knew it wouldn’t change anything.
Not this time.
She sat back, closing her eyes. The room was silent, but her thoughts were deafening.
Would it ever change? Would this city, with all its wealth and power, ever care enough to stop treating stray cats as disposable?
Her heart ached for the answer she feared would never come.
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