Oh. My. God.

Ahem. This is me getting on my soap box. Now I’m staring at you sternly. And now I’m shaking my finger at you accusingly.

Well, not all of you. Just those of you that think it’s a great idea to let your house cat outside. Who think that those fuzzy little kitties who usually dine on kibble need to be able to hunt. And chase things. And poop in other people’s gardens. And whatever else you think your very domesticated creature needs to do to stay in touch with his or her wild side.

Because you know what else they can do when you let them roam free?

Run out into the middle of a damn highway and get hit by a car. Or three.

No, my car wasn’t the one that hit the cat. But I watched it happen. It was a kitten. A little black cat, with white paws and a white mark on his chest. You know how I know? Because after I watched the car ahead of us mow him down, we drove past him, and saw him still raising his poor little head…to watch as the car behind us finished the job.

I screamed, Internet.  I wanted to turn around and save him. But we were going 70. There was no shoulder. And before we could stop…well, I already told you what happened.

I have two cats of my own. Two very spoiled cats who are every bit as much a part of the family as my baby daughter. And I would rather cut off my right hand then let them roam free.

They’re not wild.

They are domestic cats. Born of domestic cats. Who themselves were probably the progeny of other domestic cats. In other words, there’s not a wild bone in either one of their bodies.

They do not need to hunt. Sure, they might like to, but that’s why we have feathery cat toys and little yarn mice. It’s called PetSmart people. Go there. Spend five dollars. And keep your cats inside, where it’s safe.

Because if you don’t? They could become the next little splat on the highway.

And no creature, no matter how small, deserves to meet his end that way.

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