It was only a cat, a flea-infested stray, the kind you see lurking around alleys, overgrown vacant lots and the back bushes in suburban backyards. Busy people feel sorry for "the poor thing" in passing before putting it out of their minds.

But this cat was dragging his right leg. It was horribly infected, swollen to three times its normal size, bleeding and encrusted with dirt. He was probably in a fight or punctured his leg walking a fence somewhere.

My husband and I watched him as he stopped to lick his wound and hobbled toward the road. He meowed so sadly I heard my heart break into a million little pieces.

We were already late for work, but we looked at each other.

"OK, I'll get the cat carrier," he said.

We brought the cat to the veterinarian, who washed the cat's leg and gave him antiseptics, anti-inflammatories and antibiotics.

Back at our home, we set him up with a few scrap towels, shelter and a medicinal regimen in our backyard enclosure. We then called several rescue societies, trying to find a berth for him with a group that had the money to fix his back leg.

It's hard to see an animal suffer. Animals don't understand what's going on; they only know that they are in pain.

Modern medicine can help prevent heart disease and gangrene in humans, but a stray cat can only use his tongue.

We understand cancer and diabetes, but an animal's brain cannot. That's why there are so many animal shelters and caring people out there helping to keep animals like our black-and-white stray healthy and unharmed.

The cat is a little better now and spends most of his time in the neighborhood. His leg is healing, from what we can see, but we still need to find a no-kill shelter that will take him. Sadly, so many people abandoned their cats this year that there's no room for the stray. We will help him as long as we can.

But do we do the same for people? Do we give our fellow human beings the same consideration?

Gossip, rumor and nasty talk are daily experiences for teens in the average high school, and anyone who's been the subject of locker-room whisperings knows that it can be a very lonely, very isolating experience that can make people feel like stray cats: unwanted, battling the elements without a safety net.

What about the human "strays"?

I'm talking about wounded people who carry pain around with them. They're all around, flickering from class to class, trying not to be noticed.

Maybe they need to be noticed.

Maybe they need to be picked up.

It only takes one hand to extend to someone you know who might be hurt or sad. It only takes one resolution to decide that you won't participate in the gossip and rumor that hurts other human beings, that you'd rather give "antibiotics" --- compliments --- than call people names.

Is there room in your heart for the "stray" people?

Karen Osborne is a columnist with Catholic News Service.