I have adopted a feral safety cone. It broke away from its littermates several blocks away and showed up at my side gate early one morning last week. I don't know how long it has been on its own, but it looks a little ragged and beat up, plus it could use a bath and a hot meal.Okay, okay...it isn't feral and doesn't have littermates. (Which begs the question, though: what is the collective noun for a bunch of safety cones?) Our borough is doing work on the water lines and the local gas company is installing new meters in the same area. There are dozens of these cones scattered about for a three or four block radius near my house, and have been for about 6 weeks.
On her way home late one night about a month ago, my daughter Kareema found two of them in the middle of the street about a block from the house. Being the good citizen that she is, she stopped and picked one up and placed it on the curb, out of harm's way. (The other one wasn't in the middle of the street, plus the traffic light had changed and she had to move her car out of the way, or she would have picked the other one up, too.)
Anyway, last Wednesday morning, she noticed there was a cone lying on its side along the fence to my property. It was pitch dark when she left for work and she probably wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for the reflective stripes around the body of the cone. She called me to tell me it looked like the cone she rescued had made its way to my house, and wondered if I wanted to keep it.
Since I have three feral kittens (no, I really do) I'm trying to find a home for (they're almost tame by now; been feeding them), I was disinclined to take in another stray. Nevertheless, I put my fuzzy slippers on and went out to take a look at it.
Poor little thing was lying on its side, its nose pushed through an opening in the chain-link around the front yard. I set it out on the curb, thinking its owner would probably be looking for it, then went on to work, myself. When I returned home, there it sat, just where I had left it.
And there it sat until this morning. I felt sorry for it and brought it into the back yard. I am debating whether to bring it into the house. I don't know what they eat and I don't think the kittens would want to share their litter box.
I am trying to resist the urge to name it. 'Cause, once you name them, you can't get rid of them.
Just ask Georgie, Sister and Curly-Joe.
(photo of Conehead by M. C. McLemore, (C) October 2008)
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