There are very few kids that I actually enjoy being around. I find most of them to be immature, unrefined, and irritating, even though I realize that they each deserve the time and opportunity to grow and develop into well-adjusted individuals. After all, it took years for me to develop into the fabulous person that I am today.

There are some children that I do enjoy being around, but they are typically the offspring of close friends or relatives, and they are well-behaved and respectful of authority. Since very few kids fit that description these days, it stands to reason that I simply don’t like most of them. I know it isn’t politically-correct or Christ-like to feel that way, but sometimes the truth isn’t all warm and fluffy.

My negative feelings about children were further cemented when I arrived home from work this afternoon. As I walked to the end of my driveway to check the mail, I noticed three of the neighborhood hooligans chasing and capturing a stray cat that has been hanging around the area for several weeks.

After trying unsuccessfully to pick the cat up under the belly, the main culprit simply grabbed a fistful of the skin and fur on the cat’s back and began walking towards the home across the street from mine. I know that some people carry cats by the scruff of the neck, much like a mother cat transports her kittens, but this was very different and looked extremely painful for the poor animal. I almost spoke up, but decided to just keep an eye on the situation to see if the child would show himself to be a little more reasonable.

It soon became clear that the little demon spawn was hell-bent on making the cat as miserable as possible. He sat down on the porch step, pinning the animal to the concrete every time it tried to get away. The other two boys seemed just as unconcerned about the animal’s well-being, tossing around a ball and alerting him of any possible feline escape attempts. I stood in my driveway and watched, utterly dismayed but feeling helpless. These children weren’t even in my yard and their parents were nowhere to be seen, so what right did I have to admonish them for their behavior?

The boy continued his antics – lifting the cat by its tail, then a leg, then choking it and bending its head backwards. I decided I’d had enough when one of the boys decided to start throwing his soccer ball at the bewildered animal.

Their heads spun around as I yelled, “Hey! Let the cat go!” They immediately released the cat and it tore across the yard. “It isn’t a toy!”, I added, trying to control the anger that was making my voice quiver. Then I turned and went inside.

Moments later, I noticed the same cat terrorizing a field mouse that he had just caught. It seemed kind of ironic after what had just transpired, but I understood that the cat’s actions were natural, while the children’s lack of respect for life seemed cruel and callous.

And I know the kids aren’t fully responsible for their actions. Their eternally-neglectful parents have apparently never taken the time to explain to them that a living, breathing animal deserves to be treated with more respect than a soccer ball.