So. We got home from church tonight around 7 p.m., and it was dark and very rainy. James was backing the van into the driveway when the headlights illuminated a small, wet form laying on the grass by the road. Uh oh.
Yes, the kitten that the neighbor "wanted to keep" had been hit, and was laying in a mud puddle, half-frozen but still (barely) alive. I told James to go get the neighbor to see what she wanted to do, as I was picking the kitten up to assess the damage. He got the neighbor, and her response was, "Well, I don't want to see it. It's just a cat." No questions about how bad it was, no offers to take responsibility, no nothing. "It's just a cat." What, so she would've just left it to die in the cold, wet mud puddle??
I brought the kitten inside, and dried it off and warmed it up. It was immediately apparent that it wasn't going to live; its back was broken and its abdomen was filling with blood. If I was still working, I would've rushed it to the clinic to put it out of its misery. Instead, knowing kitty wouldn't make it to an emergency call at the vet 15 miles away, I cuddled her in a towel, rubbing and cooing until she died in my arms.
I am so mad.