no rest for the wicked
last night the most horrible thing happened. i was on my way to pick david up from michael's a little after 10 pm, when i hit a cat that ran across our street. it resembled one of the strays that roamed around the apartments, but it darted from someone's driveway. i couldn't help but believe that it belonged to that house. even though i knew it was dead or dying, i turned around anyway in a vain hope that it would somehow be alright.
i wish i hadn't.
what i saw haunts me still and tore my heart into pieces. the cat was writhing in the street, twisting and contorting into impossible positions, reminding me much of a fish flopping and twisting on the floor of a boat. it looked like he was caught by the neck by something invisible . . . and it was. it was caught by death and i brought it on.
i *hate* it when cats are tortured. or any animal for that fact, but especially cats. i don't want to hear about animal testing or inhumane torture over in far off countries. i certainly don't want it to happen, but please don't tell me about it. seeing animals in pain or rent asunder is the only thing that turns my stomach.
so to see that poor thing in so much pain was more than i could bear. and to make things worse, this little dog i assume with which it had been playing scampered out into the street to see what was going on, sniffing at his contractions. i wished i had crushed the thing straight on and not caused it so much pain.
i texted david, drove to the shopping center, and waited, tears falling one by one. when i got into the car, i burst into full crying mode, confusing the hell out of him because he hadn't received my text. he listened to my story and told me it wasn't my fault. i kept trying to tell myself the same thing, noting that he ran out too close and too fast for me to swerve or brake. but i couldn't help thinking that it belonged to that house and the people would venture out the next day to see their beloved cat lying motionless at the end of their driveway. david promised to take a look at it, saying that it must be a stray since it fit the description. we stopped just before it and he said that it was the kitten from last year, the one our cat jack would stare at through the window. we fed that kitten a few times, concerned over its health but not wanting to take it in lest it was diseased, and we had enough cats already. he promised me it was that kitten, grown up, and did not belong to that house. so we drove home and he went back out with a bag to put it in. what he did with it then, i do not know. all the way home he told me of the numerous stray cats and dogs he took care of, most of which were young and got run over or died from exposure. he told me this to make me feel better, or to at least inform me that sad things like this happen all the time.
but i should have left earlier to get david instead of futzing around on the internet. i should have left earlier and none of this would have happened. is it my lesson telling me not to procrastinate? or was it that kitty's time to go, to put it out of its misery on a rather warm night in december, before the real cold and snow moves in? all in all it was a horrible night and i slept horribly. i never want to see that or do that ever again.
i wish i hadn't.
what i saw haunts me still and tore my heart into pieces. the cat was writhing in the street, twisting and contorting into impossible positions, reminding me much of a fish flopping and twisting on the floor of a boat. it looked like he was caught by the neck by something invisible . . . and it was. it was caught by death and i brought it on.
i *hate* it when cats are tortured. or any animal for that fact, but especially cats. i don't want to hear about animal testing or inhumane torture over in far off countries. i certainly don't want it to happen, but please don't tell me about it. seeing animals in pain or rent asunder is the only thing that turns my stomach.
so to see that poor thing in so much pain was more than i could bear. and to make things worse, this little dog i assume with which it had been playing scampered out into the street to see what was going on, sniffing at his contractions. i wished i had crushed the thing straight on and not caused it so much pain.
i texted david, drove to the shopping center, and waited, tears falling one by one. when i got into the car, i burst into full crying mode, confusing the hell out of him because he hadn't received my text. he listened to my story and told me it wasn't my fault. i kept trying to tell myself the same thing, noting that he ran out too close and too fast for me to swerve or brake. but i couldn't help thinking that it belonged to that house and the people would venture out the next day to see their beloved cat lying motionless at the end of their driveway. david promised to take a look at it, saying that it must be a stray since it fit the description. we stopped just before it and he said that it was the kitten from last year, the one our cat jack would stare at through the window. we fed that kitten a few times, concerned over its health but not wanting to take it in lest it was diseased, and we had enough cats already. he promised me it was that kitten, grown up, and did not belong to that house. so we drove home and he went back out with a bag to put it in. what he did with it then, i do not know. all the way home he told me of the numerous stray cats and dogs he took care of, most of which were young and got run over or died from exposure. he told me this to make me feel better, or to at least inform me that sad things like this happen all the time.
but i should have left earlier to get david instead of futzing around on the internet. i should have left earlier and none of this would have happened. is it my lesson telling me not to procrastinate? or was it that kitty's time to go, to put it out of its misery on a rather warm night in december, before the real cold and snow moves in? all in all it was a horrible night and i slept horribly. i never want to see that or do that ever again.