You are mother fuckers, one and all.
I don’t care that you love your daughter and would never hurt her, that you own six cats and would never hurt them, that hey, I have this cat here you can have to replace yours, that I’m going through hard times right now, that I’m really sorry, I didn’t notice hitting anything and why are you shouting at me. It doesn’t give you fucking leeway to do 50 through a 15 mph area and run down my cat.
We loved Scooter. He was one of the most absolutely friendly and playful cats I’ve ever had a joy to know in my life – it was nearly a daily thing that we would see him at a neighbour’s house and playing with their children.
Mariah rescued both him and another of his litter from death’s door and bottle fed them back to health. Caira loved him. He was her play pal, you know. He never bit her or clawed her – a true rarity for our eclectic selection of cats – and she loved nothing more than to just hug him.
Everyone else here loved Scooter too. You’d never get him to admit it, but even Mariah’s dad loved the cat, and he’s a curmudgeon in the finest sense of the tradition.
So thank you. You ran down my daughter’s cat in front of her. Watching Scooter bleed out and die on the pavement, and knowing I couldn’t help him, was one of the absolute worst moments of my life.
Thank you, you son of a bitch.