Today is the seven-year anniversary of the time I ran over a cat. My friend, Lindsay, and I were taking advantage of the fact that I could finally drive by trick-or-treating at choice locations (like our Environmental Science/Chemistry teacher’s house).

Blasting Sleater-Kinney’s All Hands on the Bad One album, we were speeding, laughing, and singing along.

Bu-BUMP!

“What was that?”

I slowed down and looked back. A small, black lump was in the road.

“I think it’s a cat…OH MY GOD! I HIT A CAT! That’s someone’s pet!”

I felt awful, but kept driving…scared to go back and terrified to have to tell the owner what happened. I kept thinking, He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

We continued our journey; the Sleater-Kinney played a little lower, and there was less singing and laughing.

When we decided we had enough, we turned to go back to my house. I deliberately went out of the way to head back down the road. To our surprise, there was no more lump. I was praying that the cat had just gotten up and walked back home.

We made it back to my house and vacated the car. Walking up to the door, we saw it. A black cat was sitting in my yard, eying me maliciously. Needless to say, I ran my ass back inside as fast as lightening.

Happy Halloween! Drive safely!