I'm not posting this because I am an asshole, or have no feelings, or am some kind of sicko who hates cats.
Just like so many awful details of my mom's house, there are bits of
tragedy around it, too.
I walked across the road to get a wide angle shot of the house, and there this creature was in the grass. The light just happened to be brilliant, so here's a bit of twisted imagery for the day.
This road is a country road and most people drive down it about 70+ miles per hour. It's very dark out here at night.
Loose cats and dogs have always roamed around the area, and so many of them end up this way, in this spot. Including many of my mom's own pets throughout the years.
There is no fence in the yard to keep her animals in, and no money to
buy a fence.
There is no sidewalk or safe place to "walk" a dog, and my mom wouldn't be up to that task anyway.
So she takes strays or adopts pets from the local shelter. Sometimes they last years and years. Sometimes they disappear. A few times they've been hit like this.
One dog got bit by a snake once and died in my brother's arms.
More than once my mom has called me and sobbed into the phone about a lost pet.
I mourn with her and have learned not to judge her at all. She needs a pet as a companion and she's genuinely a very loving owner. Many of the animals she ends up with might have been euthanized anyway at the shelter, so I think that they live a risky life with her, but there is more goodness to it than otherwise.
Years ago when I still lived in Texas, our family dog, Sonny, got hit
on this road.
It was a sadder story though. He was a good boy, and had been with our family when we were all still together, for a few years. He was a soft, fluffy cocker spaniel. Almost the color of this cat.
My mom was off her meds and wandering the roads, and Sonny had loyally followed along.
I found his decaying fluffy body much further up the road, away from the house. Seems like he was there for weeks and weeks and never really dissolved the way some animals do.
I remember going to and from her house to fetch items or check on stuff while she was in the State Hospital, and driving by his body everyday.
I never had the strength to go scoop him up or bury him or do anything proper like that. There were many more pressing things to attend to, anyway. I never cried about it. I just hardened my heart and treated his fluffy body like a weird landmark on the way to her house for those weeks.
It just becomes a way of life sometimes.
You have to choose when to mourn, and when to move on.