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Lane Eight is a Cold Place

(Written for Bridge-It by a Friends of Joe volunteer)

You are probably wondering why a tabby has her own blog on a pollie’s website. Well I, like many bloggers, have a story to tell - a story that is not all that uncommon for a cat from the wrong side of the tracks.  

My first encounter with the Member for North Sydney was on a cold May morning when I crouched shivering, hungry and all alone on the Sydney Harbour Bridge.  The sun was rising and the peak hour traffic engines roared as they nudged each other in their futile efforts to crawl a few paces ahead of the next. 

I hear people say that Sydney Harbour is spectacular first thing in the morning - but from where I’m standing - in lane eight of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, I can’t appreciate any beauty in this cold grey place.

At four weeks of age, I can barely see but still my senses are overloaded as bright flashing lights, noisy engines and exhaust fumes consume me. I have tried and tried, but I can’t remember where I came from or how I got to this terrifying place – on the side of this road that doesn’t really have a side to seek refuge.

I am on the Harbour Bridge, crouched on a white line against a concrete wall that seems as high as the sky.  I am well and truly stuck – if I go forward I will step into the path of one of those huge machines, if I stay where I am I will eventually be squashed.

My dirty tabby coat clings to me like a wet blanket and I feel myself starting to panic as fear takes hold. The more frightened I become, the harder my baby claws press into the cold bitumen. Car after car whizzes by me on their way to where they belong and I become increasingly dazed.

I realise I can’t stay here forever and, as the only way is forward, my confused mind tells me to take the step. But what is that running towards me" Is it a man" Yes, it is. He has parked 150 metres away on the bridge’s exit and is wildly running into the oncoming traffic to get to me. 

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse...

He scoops me out of the gutter with one of his paws. Terrified, I muster all of my strength and use the only defences my skinny, frail body contain. I give him a couple of good swipes with my nails. This has little effect so I bite down hard on his arm and am proud when I feel the skin pierce and blood follow. But that doesn’t stop him. He runs to his waiting car and places me on his lap.

He holds me close as a smiling woman takes the wheel of the car. I am still fearful but feel almost comforted by this stranger in the warm coat. I feel myself beginning to thaw.

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