No Lives Left

NineLivesA few days ago as I walked from the supermarket I began to instantly sweat. The transition from ice box to oven took place rapidly! Near the edge of the sidewalk I spied a large black shape. It came up over the edge and as my right foot smashed it into a splattered pool I noticed that it was a very black beetle and not the cockroach I had assumed it to be. Still very mashed and dead.

Yesterday Rachel came to our door asking permission to enter our yard. Her Siamese cat had just been run over by a car yet somehow managed to run into our backyard for sanctuary. “Poor cat!” I exclaimed nearly under my breath as I opened my gate and saw it lying very still on the cement. I approached and saw it was still alive but stiff and unable to do much more than open its mouth and emit some noise as if gasping for breath but nothing catlike at all. Rachel brought a box and tried to lift it into the box while caressing and doing her best to comfort her pet while tears flowed down her face. Her husband had taken off to chase down the hit and run driver.

We managed to slide the cat into the box and my thoughts were to get it to a vet as soon as possible. Burney showed up and Rachel cried its too late she’s dead.  I looked and indeed that poor old Siamese was now dead. The woman who had hit the cat with her car had returned with Burney and Rachel screamed at her. “It could have been a child! Why didn’t you slow down? Why didn’t you stop? You shouldn’t have a drivers license!”.

The woman could barely speak English and defended her actions but was also guilty and trying to sympathize with Rachel. This went on for a bit until Rachel’s daughter came over and guided her mom back home across the street. I retreated to the safety of my home with a vivid reminder of how fragile life is. It is hard to believe that everyone reading this will someday be dead as well. Regardless of the number of times we escape death, eventually there are no lives left.