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Description
I was in a big building over at the fairgrounds
when I heard his cries.
His meows were pitiful and filled with despair.
I looked behind me but he wasn't there.
The only thing there was two sets of double doors.
After I was done in the building, I investigated behind the building were I heard him
but I found out that there was a big stage behind the set of double doors.
I couldn't find him.
I came back later and heard again his cries.
I knew he was trapped.
Afterwards I went out of the building again and searched intently for him.
I could hear him,
but I couldn't see him.
I looked around to see if their was a way that he could of gotten under the stage.
I had to leave.
We came back the next morning to look for him.
We pried and opened an entrance to under the stage.
He wasn't there. One of his kind was there, dead, like he is sentenced to.
I could hear him, crying out. It seemed as if he was trying to talk to me. To beg me to get him out.
I found out he was actually in the walls. He must of slipped through pipes and bars, and then got stuck.
Some one told me the animal rescue team would help. I then found out they couldn't do anything.
I cried and prayed that he would find peace, either by death or life out of the wall.
But I know what will happen to. The kitten.
He has been sentenced to death by us humans.
Humans will do anything to rescue any of their time. They will do anything, even destroy property, to help them.
Not for animals.
If they can't find an easy way to help them, they wont. They are selfish and only care about their own kind. They think that they are superior to every other species.
But they're wrong.
We are all equal.
They wont help the kitten out. They just think it is another thing. If they treated him like they do humans, they'd try to get him out, even tear the wall.
But they wont.
I imagine him as an orange tabby with brown-green eyes. I imagined that after some caring after for, he would of been a short, cute, chubby, little kitten.
But I'll never know.
Either he'll die, or he'll escape and I wont see him again.
But I know what will most likely happen.
There will be a dead kitten in their wall.
They can only blame themselves.
If I visit that place again, I know I won't hear his cries.
I have failed him.
I am sorry.

This is all true.
I still am sad.
I feel like crying for him again.

Description
I was in a big building over at the fairgrounds
when I heard his cries.
His meows were pitiful and filled with despair.
I looked behind me but he wasn't there.
The only thing there was two sets of double doors.
After I was done in the building, I investigated behind the building were I heard him
but I found out that there was a big stage behind the set of double doors.
I couldn't find him.
I came back later and heard again his cries.
I knew he was trapped.
Afterwards I went out of the building again and searched intently for him.
I could hear him,
but I couldn't see him.
I looked around to see if their was a way that he could of gotten under the stage.
I had to leave.
We came back the next morning to look for him.
We pried and opened an entrance to under the stage.
He wasn't there. One of his kind was there, dead, like he is sentenced to.
I could hear him, crying out. It seemed as if he was trying to talk to me. To beg me to get him out.
I found out he was actually in the walls. He must of slipped through pipes and bars, and then got stuck.
Some one told me the animal rescue team would help. I then found out they couldn't do anything.
I cried and prayed that he would find peace, either by death or life out of the wall.
But I know what will happen to. The kitten.
He has been sentenced to death by us humans.
Humans will do anything to rescue any of their time. They will do anything, even destroy property, to help them.
Not for animals.
If they can't find an easy way to help them, they wont. They are selfish and only care about their own kind. They think that they are superior to every other species.
But they're wrong.
We are all equal.
They wont help the kitten out. They just think it is another thing. If they treated him like they do humans, they'd try to get him out, even tear the wall.
But they wont.
I imagine him as an orange tabby with brown-green eyes. I imagined that after some caring after for, he would of been a short, cute, chubby, little kitten.
But I'll never know.
Either he'll die, or he'll escape and I wont see him again.
But I know what will most likely happen.
There will be a dead kitten in their wall.
They can only blame themselves.
If I visit that place again, I know I won't hear his cries.
I have failed him.
I am sorry.

This is all true.
I still am sad.
I feel like crying for him again.