It probably was because the cat was black I pulled a u-turn on Kaapuni Road to retrieve its body from the middle of my lane driving north. I’d successfully centered my tires over it, but knew it wouldn’t be long before the next driver angled left or right.
Chico is black; he’s one of a litter of three feral kittens I trapped last summer. I didn’t want someone to discover their own “Chico” in that condition. Ever since hitting and killing a Chihuahua on Kawaihau Road, I feel morally obligated to offer the bodies of road kill a respectful resting place.
This one was pretty gruesome. With two paper sacks I cradled the crushed body. One eyeball hung from four inches of ocular nerve and the tongue extended two inches from the mouth.
I lifted it gently to lay beneath a tree with a lovely crown, then found a long palm frond to cover his body. I told his spirit to go to the light and made him look as peaceful as I could by posturing his body in a smooth straight line and being sure to put the “bad” eye down. There was nothing I could do about the tongue.
I just know if the cat were Chico it would comfort me knowing he’d been touched tenderly and not left like a piece of rubbish in the middle of the road.
Then there was the dead cat I didn’t turn around for on the by-pass road. Two weeks after which it had become furry jerky ground into the asphalt. I guiltily drove past it recounting the day I’d seen this red tabby as a fresh kill – its compressed tail rose from the pavement to wave as I drove past; or maybe it was giving me the finger.
Why didn’t I turn around that day to lift him from the road? Was it because I don’t have a red cat? Honestly, I was in a rush to get home.
I considered it.
It was the end of the day and I was tired.
Then there was a day I opened the trunk of my car to discover a brand new red snow shovel. Yes, snow shovel. My husband has hygiene issues about my ritual lifting of the dead from Kauai roadways; the flattened boxes and paper sacks I utilize cause him concern.
I don’t want to hurt my husband’s feelings but I can’t imagine using it. I don’t like its utilitarian nature. Yes, a shovel would make the job more palatable for some, but I don’t do this out of duty to cleanliness; I do it out of a love for animals. There’s a tenderness to the bend of natural fiber as I raise the body to deliver to a gentler resting place.
I have no idea where that shovel is now. I pulled it out a few weeks ago. Maybe it’s behind the shed. This morning on my return from a zumba class I parked my car next to a dead white cat on Olohena, opened my trunk for a paper sack, and moved him off the road.
And no, I don’t have a white cat.
3 comments:
Oh, Pammy, thank you for doing this. Your acts are a beautiful testament to respect for life, in all its varied forms. This is such a raw read; the perfect tone for the story's content. Bless you.
I think it's so wonderful and heartwarming that you do this.
The other morning I dropped my husband off at school and was on my way to drop my son off at his school before I drove myself to work when I hit a squirrel. I looked in the rearview mirror and swear I saw it's tail twitch. Should I go back and finish the job and put it out of it's misery? Three things prevented me from doing this:
1. I was in a rush.
2. I thought it might look odd to others if they saw someone backing over a squirrel to make sure it was dead.
3. I didn't think I had the courage to finish the job.
So I drove on.
Sometimes I think how common a site it becomes to see a dead animal in the road and wonder what if it was a dead human?
I admire your spirit and willingness to stop.
Gosh Pam, you make me smile. I remember back when we lived on Kalamia Street you put to rest a dead crow or something like that. Same way. With the same honor and respect. I went between being mortified and in awe...mostly in awe. I admire you. Always have.
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