The speaker begins with a wry joke about leaving a job of "saving the world" for one teaching art, then quickly moves to something far heavier: on the first day, they have to bury the art colony's beloved black cat, Shadow, after she was kicked by a maintenance man who simply found her in the way. The tone is deadpan and restrained, which makes the cruelty and the grief hit harder.
The details of care are the emotional center. The colony drips water onto Shadow's tongue, pets her, and tells her she is a good kitty until she dies. The vet's comment that she wasn't in pain "that anyone could see" suggests how little we can truly know about suffering. The ending is quiet and abrupt. The speaker buries the cat, then walks off to teach children "the value of art," leaving readers to feel the gap between that grand phrase and the small, tender, painful acts of love just performed.