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Letter To The Editor Tom the cat:
Dear Editor: I am writing as a concerned citizen and former resident of West Elder Street in Holly Springs. I
lived on that street for nearly three years before moving a few weeks
ago after getting married and buying a home a few streets away. In that
time, I witnessed and was victim to an alarming amount of criminal
activity. In the period of a month in the
summer of 2008, my sister and I had our tires slashed a total of eight
times. Our dogs were constantly tortured in our own fenced yard by
pedestrians carrying box cutters and sticks. Every time we mowed the
yard, we had to pick up gin bottles out of the grass and the flower
beds first. Profanity and gang insignia were written in the snow on my
car this past winter, and my car was also used in some kind of juvenile
game involving jumping on its roof and was subsequently dented. My now
husband had $500 worth of fishing equipment taken out of the carport
the first time he ever visited me in Holly Springs. The Holly Springs
Police responded when we called but were often able to do very little
due to a limited staff and lack of neighborhood involvement. Since
I moved, I have had the first restful nights since residing in Holly
Springs, but my worry is far from over. My sister, brother-in-law, and
almost 1-year-old nephew still live there. I wonder if he’ll grow up to
have his bicycle stolen like the little boy across the street. I wonder
if he’ll even be able to play in his own yard. A neighborhood once full
of beautiful, historic homes and close neighbors is now full of drugs,
violence, and general chaos. I write this now
because I feel that I have experienced the final straw. Last week, my
twin sister, Dr. Elizabeth Smith, a local veterinarian, called me in
tears so intense I could barely understand her. As she stood in her
driveway taking her son out of the car seat, a white truck with loud
dual exhaust pipes came flying down the road, gas pedal to the floor,
and hit the family cat, right in front of them at the edge of their own
driveway. Tom was his name. My sister watched
again later on their security cameras as he flew over the truck and
took a final, shuddering breath three steps away from her feet. I can’t
imagine the driver’s sheer recklessness to get to that speed, as they
are the first house on Elder as you turn from Craft Street. In
my lifetime, I have had many pets, but even I must say that Tom was
special. Tom was once the feline blood donor and resident mouser at
Willow Bend Animal Clinic in Holly Springs. He lived there for a few
years before his super intelligence started getting him in trouble. Oh,
he ripped open a few bags of $50 dog food. He would jump out and
terrify canine patients in the front of the clinic. He would get in the
receptionist’s seat and refuse to move. One morning, the staff came in
to find that the clinic office had been rolled with toilet paper…by
Tom, who had gotten bored and opened a 24 roll package and gone to town
with it. But the final straw in Tom’s clinic residency was when he
tripped Dr. Childers…for the last time. That afternoon, Tom came to
live with my sister and was an irreplaceable resident since. As
I write this, I can’t help but wonder how many lives in this community
Tom touched without those involved even knowing. As a pet owner myself,
I know how important those furry creatures can be to those who own
them. When cats would come to the clinic and
need blood transfusion for various reasons (much like people), Tom
would be called upon to supply the source. He was a large, powerful
black-and-white cat with “good veins” as my sister would say. He
would happily give blood and get a well-earned can of sardines and a
nap for his trouble, even after he had moved from the clinic to his
permanent home. He saved lives; maybe they were only cat lives, but to
the people who owned them, they were very special lives. In
the cat world, Tom was a darn good Samaritan. In the family world, he
was an even better one. When my sister was experiencing difficulties in
late pregnancy, Tom was the first to go to her side and would never
leave. Subsequently, Tom had a powerful love
for my nephew, which I always thought was strange. But even when Gus
was a newborn, Tom was never far away from him. That baby could pull
his hair and twist his ears and poor Tom would never make a sound. It
is unfortunate that Gus will never remember his cat, but I always will.
And I think that he should be a lesson for our neighborhood and our
community. Things cannot continue to go on
without intervention in that area. This time, it was a cat. But next
time? What if it is someone’s child? As a citizen of this community, I
am unwilling to step back and do nothing, say nothing, pretend that we
can’t do anything about this. Our community
will never improve if we sit back and accept the status quo. I feel
that if we had more of a police presence in that area, some of this
nonsense could be deterred. We can restore our beautiful little town to
a strong and growing community. But we will never find a solution to
the problems if more of our community members don’t speak up. Sincerely,
Sarah Miller Taylor
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