We had to take Oliver to the vet today. He's my beautiful white cat, whom I love more than any of the other pets. Its true, I have a favorite. He's peeing blood, which is bad whether you're a cat or a human. This story is not about a cat. At the end of the vet appointment I was feeling hopeful and optimistic. Oliver's kidneys are infected, not shut down as I feared, and he could have another year left in him if we can clear the infection before it kills the remaining healthy tissue. Let me stress again, this story is not about a cat.
As I finished paying I said to C & G, "Hey, can one of you carry this bag of catfood?" Only to be met with silence. And I turn around and they're gone. But, this story is not about them. What happened next didn't actually happen in real time. It was flashed between fast forward and slow motion. I was 10 feet... 110 feet... from the door of the vet, which is about 10 feet... 10 inches... from the street, when B pushed on the door and it opened. And she walked right out in front of a giant black pickup truck. It was a chevy, jacked up on huge tires. I screamed "NO!", dropped my sick cat (in his carrier) and sprinted out into the street to snatch her back. The truck squeals to a stop, and at this point I realize that he had NO IDEA she was there. The driver, a nondescript brown haired man, wouldn't have stopped. His eyes looked... sick.
How she crossed the pavement that fast is beyond comprehension. She just did. I have no recollection of her feet walking or running. It's as though she walked through the door and onto the blacktop. Where were C and G? About 15 feet down the sidewalk looking in the windows. They'd left w/o permission, and had no idea that they'd almost lost their sister. Poor cat. He's fine by the way. So is B, who smiled at me and said, "Thank you!" after I grabbed her.
I'm going to go now. There's a glass of wine calling me. My heart is still racing. I don't know if it will ever stop racing.