I was on my way home, after an incredibly long day at uni. I was listening to some music on my mp3 player, when I saw this lovely cat nuzzled on the threshold of a house. I went closer in the most friendly way possible not to frighten him. And I stroked him. He purred and mewed with appreciation.
I headed forward. I crossed the street. Headphones in my ears. I turned around. The pretty cat was following me on the zebra crossing. He stopped halfway through. In the middle of the road. I waved as to tell him to move on. To go back. He went back, but hesitated again. In the middle of the road.
A double decker hit him to death. I saw his body whirling under the wheels as if he was made of cotton. His long fur covered with blood, his guts smashed all over the pavement. My heart stopped. I gaped in shock. A passer-by asked me if it was my cat.
No. It was not my cat. But he was a cat I had just stroked, who trusted me enough to follow me. And cats are notably distrustful. One second before he was alive. And now he rests in shreds on cold gray asphalt. Torn into pieces, as cars run over him, carelessly.
Two years ago something similar happened. I bursted out crying like a baby. This time I couldn't shed a tear. I guess I've run out of them... or I am turning into a cynical metropolitan bitch. Who tries to be sweet and lovely, and ends up killing pets.
Picci!
ReplyDeletemi dispiace tantissimo per la tua disavventura.
Immagino quanto deve essere stato brutto e so quanto sei sensibile a queste cose.
Vorrei stringerti forte forte, perchè non ho parole per consolarti. :(
t voglio bene bimba!