The Black Cat

Tonight, as I drove home through Scalby, at about 9pm, my headlights picked out a black cat, lying across the centre line as if asleep. Two other cars passed by on an almost empty road. I turned and parked in the centre of the road, hazards flashing.

The cat lay in my headlights, a pool of blood beside the open mouth. I put my hands around it and picked it up. The body was cold beneath the sleek soft fur. No movement or sound from the limp form. I carried it to the roadside and laid it gently on the grass verge beside the footpath. I hoped death had been swift, but what more could I do?

As I drove home, I was full of sadness. For the cat, struck by a motorist, who did not bother to stop, for the owner, who would find their missing pet stretched beside the road, and at all those others who had passed its cooling body and driven on. Better, I thought, anyway, to find a pet and know the truth, than to see a mangled mess of blood and flesh in the middle of the road and wonder.

Strange that I am grieving for a lost pet I never knew, but perhaps it’s the grief from my lost pets resurfacing. Perhaps just empathy with a beautiful creature taken too soon, because I do love animals and honour them, in life and in death.

Twice before I have done this service. The first time, an escaped pet rabbit hopped across a surburban street, and to my horror, the car in front deliberately swerved to run it over. I stopped and carried the body to the roadside and laid it on the verge. The fur was soft, the body still warm, but the split abdomen showed death had been mercifully swift. I hoped the child who had loved it would not be the one to find it, but there was nothing else I could do.

The second time, I found a cat on the roadside in the country, still alive and obviously badly hurt. As I picked it up and laid it gently on the back seat, the back legs hung limp, a broken spine. I drove to a nearby house to see if they knew the owner, but they didn’t. As I returned to the car, the cat grew still and stopped breathing. A welcome release. Again, I laid it gently on the verge beside the road, in the hope its owner may find it and be spared the worry of a long search for a missing pet.

So now, the third time. I hope it may be the last.