Stupid Girl

The other day I heard a plaintive, tiny, high-pitched mewling from outside.
I glanced up from my work to listen, fixing my eyes on the wall I had painted olive green as if it would help me place the sound.
India is a country of dogs...oh, I don't mean the people...now don't get me wrong - I mean: literally, India is infested with dogs. I use the word 'infested' purposefully here. There is not a street in this country that doesn't host a population of stray dogs nearly equal to that of people - making some of them very dangerous to walk down after hours - but this was not a dog sound.
I couldn't quite place the noise - so desperate and obviously in some kind of panic. We hear lots of animal sounds here in our concrete jungle, but among them I've never once heard a cat, which is why it took me getting out of my chair and onto the balcony before I could identify that it was in fact a very tiny kitten being carried, no - bounced down the road, upside down, by a girl big-enough-to-be-old-enough-to-know-better.
As the girl escaped down the street with her helpless little treasure in hand, clearly taking no notice of the kitten's begging I shuddered in sympathy for the creature and returned to my work - unable to rationalize rushing down and taking the animal away from it's torturer for a number of reasons including the fact that I was still in my pajamas, and didn't have on any sunscreen (at two in the afternoon sunscreen is a non-negotiable for me anymore.)

About thirty minutes later, I was drawn out of complete immersion in my work by the same small voice and immediately rushed to the balcony to inspect the situation.
Along comes this girl, now facing in my direction so I can see plainly that she is at least fifteen years old, and in my estimation should be mature enough to know how to handle an infant, animal or no. The kitten was probably less than six weeks old and judging by the way it cried as it was carried in the palm of one of the girl's hands, on his back, little legs splayed out above him, it was in no shape to be toted like a chunk of stone through the blazing hot roads. The girl alternately lifted the kitten to stick her thick fingers in his mouth and swooped the animal down to her side again.

As the girl passed beneath my balcony my own voice caught me by surprise, "What are you doing?!" I demanded of her.
She looked up at me and stupidly thrust the kitten into the airspace between us so I could get a better look, slowing her bouncing waltz to a pause below me.
I repeated my question, imploring her to understand my English - hoping that the tone of my voice would be the same in any language.
She just stood there shading her eyes with one hand, holding the still-crying kitten in the other, and smiled at me.
"Be gentle...gentle..." I soothed from my perch, using a voice usually reserved for the one-to-six-year-olds in my life and motioning in the air what probably looked to her like nothing of any sense at all.

With a sigh of resignation I turned to go back inside and was momentarily heartened to see that as she started her walk again she lifted her other hand to cradle the kitten more gently only to drop both hands violently back down as she took off at a full run down the road.

I'm waiting now, the door to the balcony is open...listening for the sound of that sweet little fuzzy crying thing and it's ogre. Next time, I am thinking to myself, I will take that kitten and keep it.