King Tut

Last night Michael hit a cat with our car. At 7:23pm we were headed to Outback Steakhouse which I had appropriately fasted for ALL day long. Literally, I was starving when not even .02 miles from our house, we struck a cat. I didn't notice at first because I was reading a Christmas card but Michael goes, "Oh No! What was that?!" and quickly slows down to a crawling speed.  My first couple thoughts and comments were 1)Michael what did you do?Tell me! Thinking he just ran over a person and now we will have arrestings and court dates and so on. 2) I am so stinking hungry don't you dare turn around to see what you hit. JUST DRIVE! 3) What happened to my car? 4) Stupid cat.

Michael and I battled like the little shoulder angel and devil about whether or not to turn back around. The angel, Michael, won and made a U-turn on Pen Park Rd. The first time we circled back to the crime scene, we could see that for sure the cat was dead. He was laying dead board straight with this tail, hind and front legs completely stretched out. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. Ew. Now let's go eat," was my comment as we circled  back. So on we went. But come Pen Park Rd, the little angel convinced Michael to turn around to go investigate. At this point, all the circling made me dizzy. But to our joy/dismay/surprise the fat cat was sitting up in the spot we left him as if he was normal. Michael pulls over, gets out, and attempts to read the cat collar. "King Tut." King Tut the cat who bolted out in front of the Musta

ng appeared to have a broken leg. Michael tried calling the number on the tag but it wasn't operating. Two more cars pulled  over and got out. "Oh geez," I'm thinking,  "just our luck they are animal enthusiasts." They were. 

One guy is repeating, "Can someone please take him to the Vet???" - (I was like no way brother!) and the other woman was saying "oh I've seen him before." Then King Tut's neighbor drives by, gives us his owners correct number,  acts concerned, tells us there are 4 more cats where King Tut lives. Fantastic, the old lady with a bunch of cats. Then King Tut manages to stand up and successfully gallops away.  The man again impatiently urges for someone, probably us, to take him to the vet. I guess I could have been a little more compassionate, but I said, "That won't be happening. I am really allergic to cat fur. Michael, hun, we need to go!" Aussie cheese fries were calling me. 

After a few more minutes debating and searching for the cat with cell phone lighting (useless), the three drivers call it a night and we got on our way. Michael felt bad, but there was nothing he could have done. King Tut lived, maybe has a broken leg, but lived. Michael reached Tut's mom and let her know that everything was alright but she may want to check King Tut out when he returned home. She was alarmed but nice and Michael gave her his name, address and number - all the while I am whispering "Don't give your full name! Don't give her your address?! Don't give her your number?!?!?" 

So that was yesterday's drama. Hopefully King Tut is just fine. I am now convinced that cats have 9 lives.