So after the movie I dropped everyone off at my friend's house and started to drive home. On the way out of my friend's neighborhood, I saw what looked like a white sheet blowing in the wind. Only it wasn't windy. And a few seconds later I realized it was a cat.
I got out of the car. The poor thing had already been run over and it was trying to scramble out of my way, but it was stuck to the pavement.
In retrospect, the most humane thing I could have done was get back in my car and run over it and put it out of its misery. But I panicked. I pulled the thing off the pavement as gently as I could, and although it didn't cry much, I know now that I really hurt it. I drove back to my friend's house in hysterics, crying and yelling on about how "it was just like in the movie." Finally my date figured out what had happened, and he graciously carried the cat on his lap (wrapped in my scarf) while I drove to my parents' house (I didn't have a number for an emergency vet or anything). The cat died on the way there.
When we got to my folks, I woke up my dad. Mr. Omaha Nebraska, I-want-a-protected-wildlife-scene-in-my-backyard-when-we-finally-move-to-the-country. "You brought home a dead cat?" he asked incredulously, managing to make out only half of what I was saying. I was still pretty hysterical. My mom got home a few minutes later. Mom was raised on a farm and has never liked animals, cats especially. But she did the sweetest thing. She put her fingers on the cat's neck and said, "Yeah, I think she's gone." Then she got up early with me the next morning (I stayed up all night, crying) and helped me bury the cat in our backyard. She even said a little prayer for it.
This was a rather sad cat story. But you can't say I didn't warn you.
