It was an awful, inhuman scream that first drew firefighter Jerry Carpenter to the door of the Engine 50 firehouse in North Philadelphia before dawn yesterday.
Outside, two pit bulls writhed in a blurry flurry of rage, which the 16-year fire department veteran initially mistook for a dogfight.
While he debated what to do, Carpenter saw a cat's claw flash from the middle of the flying fur, and his stomach turned.
It was Smokey, a stray the firefighters had taken in a year ago and quickly grew to love. The scream, he realized sickly, was Smokey's.
"I could hear this guy saying, 'Get 'em! Get 'em!' Those dogs were like sharks, tearing him up," he said. "I put my finger on the door to open up, but then I thought I better not, because I couldn't run - I have a bad foot. They were so frenzied, who knew if they'd go after me?"
When another firefighter ran over to help, the dogs' owners quickly called off their canines and they ran, leaving Smokey's broken, bloody body in a heap outside the firehouse, located at Cambria Street and Park Avenue - in one of the city's worst neighborhoods.
Yesterday afternoon, grieving firefighters vowed to find the menacing dog owner responsible for the 4 a.m. attack on their beloved mascot. The man ran toward 13th Street and was armed with a big stick.
Firefighters cite Smokey's fate - and the gritty neighborhood's shortage of strays - as evidence that illegal dog fighters train their vicious animals to practice their blood-thirsty maneuvers on family pets and any strays they can find.
"That's how they train their pit bulls," Battalion Chief George Griffin said.
Firefighter Jim Klick agreed, gazing at the cat's mangled body, which firefighters plan to cremate. "That's a sin," he said. "Shows you the caliber of people around here."
The skinny, gray cat with white paws first visited the fire station a year ago, darting inside when the enormous garage door lifted to let out firefighters summoned to an emergency.
One firefighter started feeding him. Another named him Smokey.
And though he quickly became indispensable as a mouser, many firefighters and paramedics grew so fond of him that they brought him catnip and toys and invited him to nestle with them overnight.
Yesterday, bags of cat food and treats sat in a back corner of the station, next to a cardboard box to which someone had attached a whiffle ball hanging from twine.
On the station's blackboard, someone memorialized, "R.I.P. Smokey. Done in by two pit bulls, 3:50 a.m., 2/6/01."
