I saw a cat get hit by a car on the way home last night. Bummed the hell out of me. I was in my car and puttering along when I saw a little skinny cat go darting across a four-lane highway. I slowed down so it could pass, but the jackass in the lane next to me did not. Well, to be honest he tapped his brakes, so I know he saw the cat, but the slowing down was a minimal effort. It was like a person sitting at a desk and throwing a wad of paper at the wastebasket. When it misses it's mark, the person just shrugs and says 'eh, I tried'. That was the minimal amount he tapped on his brakes.
So I was tracking the movement of this little cat, my toes curling up when it ran under the wheel and then I held my breath as it hit the wheel and went spinning off to the dark sidewalk. The suv that hit it sped on. For whatever reason, it just upset me more than normal. It was a little homeless cat, cold and scared and hungry, and it raced across this highway, not understand it, only trusting its luck, only to get hit. I hope it died instantly. In fact it was the thought of it laying in the dark cold, unable to move and in pain for a long time before it died that had me bummed out most of the night.
I saw its body on the way to work this morning. Stretched out on the sidewalk it looked like a happy cat sunning itself on a warm pavement. Except the pavement was cold, and by time later today comes it's body will be picked at by turkey vultures. I have no problem admitting I am hypocritical about the empathy I felt for the creature. If it had been a possum or an armadillo or a squirrel, I probably would not have thought twice about it. Cats, however, hit a little close to home, mainly because I expect to find one of my own cats run over one day. I let my cats run free; let them be the little animals they are. The concept of locking a cat up in a house is not something that appeals to me. Luckily my cats seem to have a healthy respect for the road and cross it carefully. However, you never know when it might get spooked and run right into the path of an oncoming car. So every day I half expect to come home and find a fuzzy lump in the street in front of my house.
Part of my gloom also came from Nicotine withdrawal. I am not going to talk about my personal attempts to quit smoking, mainly because like Mark Twain said 'Quitting smoking is easy. I have done it hundreds of times.'. It's not anything people who know me have not heard before. However, I will say its been a few days without one and my internal chemistry is all amuck as it tries to reprogram itself to function without nicotine. As a result feelings of intense gloom occasionally roll over me. I equate it to a chik on the rag. To ward it off I have been taking a few long walks at night.
Last night I wandered around downtown Sanford. It's fairly interesting because it is completely deserted at 9:30 at night. Next time I go for a walk I am going to have to bring my camera. Particularly eerie were the new condos by the river. They are large and imposing and utterly deserted. I wonder what Sanford will be like once that place fills with patrons.
Friday night I get beer. Yay!
2026 Update
Setting the dial for a 2007 where a dead cat outglooms nicotine and Sanford's riverside condos are a ghost playground.
Nineteen years on, this post is a fossil of a world that has been steamrolled. Letting cats free-roam was normal enough to admit in a blog; now you'd get a passive-aggressive note from a neighbor with an air fryer and a facial-recognition doorbell, asking why your 'furry baby' is treating their landscaping like a litterbox. Smoking withdrawal meant long cold walks and honest gloom; now it means vape clouds shaped like anxiety and nicotine pouches you hide from your coworker. Those 'utterly deserted' condos by the river? In 2026 that's called a pre-sale phase, and by the time people arrive the ground floor has a 'mixology taproom' and an artisanal candle shop. Cars have backup cameras and collision alerts, yet still turn a tomcat's trust into a sidewalk smear. At least you had the decency to think about the turkey vultures. But you never took that camera, did you? You were too busy planning Friday beer.
“2007 Ed, when you watched that cat spin off the wheel, did you recognize your free-range cat policy as just another 'eh, I tried' handed to fate? And now that you've had nineteen years of lonely walks and empty condos, would you still call locking a cat in a house unappealing, or have you finally seen the appeal of a leash?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, you're asking about the cat and my free-range policy, and I get it, I really do. There I am, watching that little thing spin off into the dark, and yeah, I'm the same kind of jackass who lets his own cats roam and just shrugs. I don't like it, but I also can't stand the thought of Moxie staring at a screen door her whole life. Cats are little predators, not houseplants. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, but I've made peace with it. As for the "nineteen years" part, I have no clue what kind of time warp you're stepping out of, but I can tell you this: tonight I'm going on another lonely walk past those empty condos, and I still think leashes are for dogs and people who enjoy being judged by their cats. Now if you'll excuse me, Friday night I get beer. Yay.
