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Jul. 29th, 2014 06:32 pmSpock isn't certain what to do with it.
The creature is small, thick-furred and quadropedal, with two curling horns on its head and extremely long, filament-like whiskers. From what he has been able to tell, it's a desert-dwelling creature. A scavenger. It may have occupied a niche in its homeworld like jackals did on the Earth of his own universe.
In any event, it doesn't belong in the city, skulking around in garbage cans for scraps, risking being made sick or getting injured on a street, or any number of other unnatural fates. Spock was careful with the use of 'unnatural,' but it certainly seemed to fit in this case. For a raccoon to live in a city was no longer unnatural. They had evolved to make city-dwelling ideal for many populations. This creature had no such advantages yet.
He still had not figured out what he planned to do with it once he got close enough to it, which he has already berated himself about mentally -- twice. But it seems better to act, than to not act at all, out of indecision. He never was as slow to move on such things as his Vulcan brethren. It is not ethical to make a pet of a wild creature, but neither is it to allow it to continue suffering unnecessarily.
Approaching from the mouth of the alley, he gets fairly near; near enough to hold out the long pole with the collar attached. If he could get it over the animal's head, he could cinch it, and carefully move the animal into a breathable bag he'd brought to contain it, until it could be moved.
But it's too wiley for him, and when the barest brush of the collar comes, it takes off -- slow but erratic -- toward the other end of the alley with Spock in pursuit.
The state of it is plain from the glimpse he'd caught, though. Despite the thick, matter fur, its ribs are obvious. It hasn't eaten properly. It's filthy.
The creature is small, thick-furred and quadropedal, with two curling horns on its head and extremely long, filament-like whiskers. From what he has been able to tell, it's a desert-dwelling creature. A scavenger. It may have occupied a niche in its homeworld like jackals did on the Earth of his own universe.
In any event, it doesn't belong in the city, skulking around in garbage cans for scraps, risking being made sick or getting injured on a street, or any number of other unnatural fates. Spock was careful with the use of 'unnatural,' but it certainly seemed to fit in this case. For a raccoon to live in a city was no longer unnatural. They had evolved to make city-dwelling ideal for many populations. This creature had no such advantages yet.
He still had not figured out what he planned to do with it once he got close enough to it, which he has already berated himself about mentally -- twice. But it seems better to act, than to not act at all, out of indecision. He never was as slow to move on such things as his Vulcan brethren. It is not ethical to make a pet of a wild creature, but neither is it to allow it to continue suffering unnecessarily.
Approaching from the mouth of the alley, he gets fairly near; near enough to hold out the long pole with the collar attached. If he could get it over the animal's head, he could cinch it, and carefully move the animal into a breathable bag he'd brought to contain it, until it could be moved.
But it's too wiley for him, and when the barest brush of the collar comes, it takes off -- slow but erratic -- toward the other end of the alley with Spock in pursuit.
The state of it is plain from the glimpse he'd caught, though. Despite the thick, matter fur, its ribs are obvious. It hasn't eaten properly. It's filthy.
