Bio: Daughter of Frank and Inge Galey grew up on the ranch, 1940s to mid 1960s. Descriptor: Learning about death, killing a barn cat.
Cynthia’s Story: LEARNING ABOUT DEATH Cynthia Galey Peck. I spent lots of time watching the wild barn cats. I decided to tame one of the kittens. I wanted a pet that would sit with me when the horses were out grazing. I lay in ambush by a hole in the barn floor until an unsuspecting kitten popped up. I caught a skinny, frightened, fuzzy gray one. I held it quietly until it calmed down. I didn’t want it to go under the barn again since it might never give me another chance to catch it again. I knew better than to put anything around its neck, so I carefully tied a string around its middle. I could use it as a leash. The kitten wasn’t very cooperative and managed to run back down the hole in the split log floor. I tried to pull it back by the string, but couldn’t. I was in a terrible quandary. If I forced it up the hole, I would hurt it, but if I let go of the string, it might get hung up, or it might chew the string off. I finally let go. That afternoon I heard the dogs yipping, barking and jumping behind the ranch kitchen by the buck fence. Something was bouncing from the ground back up onto the fence. I ran over to see the kitten with its string caught in the fence and the dogs nipping it with each bounce. Somehow I scarred the dogs off, grabbed the kitten and tried to get the string off her, but it was too tight around her middle. I got it loose from the fence and ran to Dad who might have a knife. The kitten didn’t survive that long. It died a quivering bloody mass gasping for breath in my arms. I had killed the kitten from my selfishness because I just wanted it for a pet. It was perfectly happy, healthy and useful as a wild barn cat. I cried until I was sick to my stomach and then cried some more. I swore I would respect others lives and freedoms as long as I lived, be they humans or animals.