RIP, Jim

A nearby neighbour i don't know called when he saw my missing cat sign. He saw kitty by the side of the road. An orange one. Hoped it wasn't mine but....

It was dark when he called, and dark when i drove past. I couldn't see anything.

I got up this morning, walked to the end of my street (i'm the first house on the left, so the end of the street is close by), turned left, and directly across Mr and Mrs H's driveway, but on my side of the road, i saw a familiar shade of orange. It was Jim.

Thankfully, whoever hit him either had done so at the edge of the road or had kindly moved him.

Himself is away, and while i've got the hole dug, i can't bring myself to go collect Jim's body. I've a call into my kind neighbour up the street, who has helped me dispatch moles, voles, and chipmunks the cats have brought me. I've gotten a lot better about dispatching those myself, but i think i need help with this. He and his wife are out and about someplace, but i've left a phone message asking them to call me back.

Helluva way to meet a neighbour.

I am grateful for the closure.
I am grateful that this was a mercifully quick way to go.
I am grateful i made up the signs and that someone took the time to call me.

In some respects, it does not make the heartbreak easier, as it's always sad to say good-bye to a furfriend, but when i hear awful stories of unspeakable things, i am so very grateful Jim was spared that.

I'll never know why he ventured near that busy, busy road, as i yelled at him the two times i saw him venturing out on our much quieter street, and he'd run from the front yard into the back if a loud car or truck went past. I could drive myself crazy with maybes, but why bother? It's moot.

Thank you, Jim, for your sense of fun, forgiving and loving nature, and light.