It was a complete accident. I was reversing in the yard and felt the soft bump and crunch. I got out and there was the cat, in its last thows of being crushed to death. I was horrified and quickly and discreetly disposed of the body before my son Gavan discovered the great tragedy.
I came home that night with a 12 pack of tins of cat food and pretended nothing had occurred at all at all.
After about two days Gavan became a bit worried for the cat as it had not been seen and its food lay untouched. We went searching in the Garden and fields but to not avail. A few days later when he had still not turned up Gavan was getting a little distressed.
I had a good friend in the Detective Sgt at our local Garda station and phoned him and asked for his help. He arrived at the house in a police car and interviewed Gavan about the missing cat. Asked for a description.
“Mostly Pure white except for the end of his tail which was black and two black patches on his forehead, hazel brown eyes, about six years old, deep purr, answered to the name of Snow”
He wanted a photograph to circulate to all Garda officers in the district and told him he would get the helicopter search team on the job as soon as he could. He counselled Gavan that the cat would be unlikely to be found. Cats often went off on their own he said. They get an urge to go to the city and there was really nothing you could do about it. He was sure he would be able to look after himself
“Is he a good hunter?”
“Yes” said Gavan, “he is always catching mice and rabbits in the fields, he brings them to the back door to show me”
“Well there you are” said the Detective, “he’ll be fine”
And off he went with the description and photograph to call out the helicopter search unit.
They never did find the cat. He’s still missing
Gavan is 25 years old now and I still haven’t the heart to tell him that all those years ago, I ran over the cat.