Her name was Annabelle. She was a beloved cat. I watched her deliver her kittens. She used to sit on my chest and purr. And I found her dead in the road in front of our driveway. She was trying to make it home, to die.
Waynesburg Road’s speed limit in front of my house is 35 mph. After Craft Road, it only goes up to 45 mph. But to those of us who live there and have lost our beloved pets, it seems like we live on Interstate 79 South. As I cry about my beloved cat, I also remember there are people out there who are just as careless with their children. And that the first child abuse case had to be tried under the animal abuse law in the early 1960s.
I would like to say that as a society, we have come a long way. But, sadly, we have not. The carelessness that took Annabelle from me also shows in our neglect of each other. So to the person who ran her down and left her alone to die, I just want you to know, her name was Annabelle. And she had meaning in my life. I hope and pray no one treats you with the same disregard.
Cat was beloved