Last night I went to visit my best friend, hang out and gossip, play on her computer ... girl stuff. So around, I think, 10 or so, I decided it was time to head home.
As I opened the garage door, I see my husband and kids, standing in a cluster, concentrating on the small area that our cat, (affectionately named Toombes by my husband, because when I first bought the cat home, he made the comment (a line, from the movie 'Riddick') "Skittish, Tombs. Very skittish", and thus, our cat had a name) slept. I stopped the van & walked over to see our cat lying awkwardly on his blanket, tears in the eyes of my children and Craig wit ha grave look on his face. "There's something wrong with the cat," was all he said.
I hunched down & inspected our poor cat, who was limp, his back legs at an odd angle, with pain filled eyes. "We think he was run over - or maybe a dog got him" was Craigs explaination.
We moved him (pillow & all) into the laundry room, where it was warmer. I set myself up beside him (Craig bought me a pillow to sit on, and a blanket) and I tried mothering our cat, who was very obviously dying.
His pitiful meows whenever someone tried to move him, his nips at my wrists when I tried to lift him gently to look at the damage. He was hurt, and he was dying.
Then my son tells me when I was leaving (to go to my friends house) as the garage was closing, he saw the cat run out from behind the van as I was backing down the driveway.
I had run our cat over!
My heart sank, I hadn't even noticed or felt anything that may have been a cat. But there was no denying, I was responsible.
I sat with the cat for a few hours, the kids all came in and said their goodbyes. Our 6 year old, who was closest to Toombes (he would play forever with her. When he was a kitten, he used to jump out & tackle her because she's so small, and for him, was an easy mark. They both loved each other very much) sat by Toombes for a bit, and he kept reaching his paw out to touch her whenever she stopped petting him, so of course she was a mess.
He survived through the night, and in the morning he was still hanging on like a trooper. Around mid morning I called Craig at work and told him he needed to 'do something' to end the cats suffering. He, valiantly, agreed and came home from work. I took the baby and left (after much crying and saying my goodbyes, and sorries)
When I came home, the cat had passed, and we will be burying him tonight. He will be missed.
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