Several years after we were married, we were coming home late one night and ran over a kitten on the main road right around the corner from our house. We didn't hit it. We actually straddled it with the car. As soon as we saw that it was still alive, we stopped, used a blanket to capture the little fellow and took him home with us. For the next two days he did nothing but hiss at us every time we came close to him. I figure that he was in shock. After two days, he started drinking milk, and eventually soft cat-food. We named him Remus and I really enjoyed having a friendly, inquisitive shadow wherever I went. He had his own bed, water and food dish, and cat toys in the garage and was friendly to everyone.
Sometime around a 1 1/2 and 2 years later, we were returning home late one night, and at just about the exact same location on the same road, Remus tried to cross the road ahead of us, and our vehicle became the instrument of his destruction. I returned the next morning, and collected the body and buried it in the far corner of our property. I could still take you to the place.
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