. . . how are you at catching mice?

i hit a cat on my way to class this week. the siamese came streaking out of the ditch like a dog does when it chases cars, only this cat was racing to cross the road in front of me. the front tire missed, but i felt the thud on the back tire and knew she hadn't made it. i went on for about a quarter mile, saying to myself that i couldn't go back, i'd be late to class, but almost as soon as i considered the thought i rejected it. i turned around in an approach and started to scan the road for the casualty. at first i didn't see it and hoped i had been wrong, but then i saw the sandy colored lump, almost the same color as the white rock road, in front of the neighbor's driveway.

i stopped the car in the road and approached the cat. i bent down and gingerly turned it over. there was no blood, which i was grateful for. i kind of stroked it to see if it would move. it didn't. i picked it up and started up their driveway. it felt strange carrying a newly dead cat: so soft and warm and light, but lifeless. i could see a woman at the sink in front of the window and knew she was sending her husband out to me. he came out the garage door as i walked up and i said, "i hit your cat and i'm pretty sure it's dead." when reached him i handed over the limp body and said, "i'm sorry," and as soon as the words left my mouth i started sobbing.

he cradled the cat in one arm and put the other around me and i couldn't do anything but lean on his shoulder and cry. he tried to make me feel better, saying "we have too many cats, and they like to play too close to the road," and i tried to say that i was okay, i just felt bad, but every time i spoke i cried even more. "nobody likes to hit cats and nobody likes to lose them, but it just happens sometimes," he told me. i said, I know, but it's just that i like cats, i have cats too, and he said, Well if you need anymore you just come over and get one. (they really do have a lot. once i drove by and counted nine sitting around their driveway.) i still couldn't stop crying, but finally i composed myself enough to tear myself away, and even then he was reluctant to let me go because he was worried about my emotional state. "are you okay to drive?" Yes, i'm fine, i said, and at last turned to go. i saw that his blue eyes were watering too.

i cried all the way into town. it wouldn't have been so bad if i hadn't gone back, but actually picking up the animal myself, holding it like i would my own cat, and handing it over to the owner was difficult, especially since i'm a cat lover. i love all cats, even mangy ones with watery eyes and snotty noses. but this cat wasn't mangy; it was a siamese with beautiful, clear blue eyes. it could have been my own cat laying in the road. that's why i had to go back.

it was also kind of strange, that man hugging me. it was such a personal moment that would have been very awkward except for the fact that the reactions were so natural; my tears of remorse and sadness and his hug-reflex prompted by sympathy for a hurting person. i would have preferred hand over the cat, offer a sincere apology and my sympathy, and sadly drive away. i didn't want to cry, i didn't want to stay, i didn't want to lean my head on a stranger's shoulder but it just happened that way and i couldn't do anything else and probably he couldn't either. i don't even know his name, though he's one of our neighbors and we drive by his house all of the time. it's kind of beautiful, if you think about it. maybe he's always a nice man, but maybe he's not. maybe he's mean and cranky, or maybe his eyes were red and watery from a hangover and not because he was crying with me. but in that moment, for me, he was a friend who did what any friend would do, who gave me a shoulder to cry on when i couldn't do anything but cry.