The kindness of strangers...

 Nine years ago, I took in two wee kittens who had been abandoned in an empty house with a bowl full of food, an overflowing litter pan, and no water. I set them up a heated house in the garage and kept them in at night but let them roam the farmlette during the day. We dubbed them Click and Clack (after the radio program Click and Clack the Tappet Brothers.) The local rodent population suffered, but the kittens flourished. 

I was out and about for a few hours this morning. This afternoon, someone knocked on the door. A woman asked, "Do you have a cat? May I come in?"  Then she gave me a hug. This kind stranger had driven by our house this morning and seen a car pulled over and another woman holding an injured cat and crying. Clack had been crossing the road, and she hit him. Margo, the woman at my door, told me that she had stopped and taken the cat. He was severely hurt, and she thought he was dying. She brought him up to the house and knocked on the door, and since no one was home, she sat on a chair on the deck and held him in the sun a while, thinking he would soon pass. He did not. 

With incredible benevolence, she took him to a local veterinarian and called the animal control officer. The vets made the decision to euthanize him and did so. Then the woman drove past our house again, and when she saw my truck in the driveway, she gave up even more of her time to let me know what happened to our good, good boy. 

Click, the cat on the right, did not come home for supper tonight. A tiny part of me hoped he might—that maybe it was some other cat that misjudged traffic. 

Clack will miss his brother. Together, they played, snuggled in their little warm house, and enjoyed munching on mice. I will miss him, too. I loved to watch him strutting through the meadow, basking in the sun, and racing up the pile of hay bales like the king of the mountain. I loved his head butts, his extra loud purr, and stroking his thick, luxurious coat. 

I well know that allowing cats to roam at will is a gamble. Every morning, when I fed the boys breakfast and let them outside, I'd send them with a little blessing, hoping they would stay safe. And they have for around 3,500 days—until today. 

I'd be out in the dark now, calling Click home, except for Margo, the sweet cat-loving woman who took the time to help an injured animal and cared enough to let me know his sad fate. I am sorrowful to have lost a friend but so grateful for the kindness of strangers.