“Lizzie, I think… I hit a cat…” I gasped into the phone.
“And?” Lizzie replied, her voice completely calm.
“What do you mean, ‘and’? What should I do?”
“At least get out of the car and check if its still alive.”
I swallowed hard. The driveway was empty, the evening air thick with a metallic tanglike the smell of fear. Slowly, I opened the door and leaned forward without stepping out, peering under the car. And there it wasalive. A little grey… ball of fur, trembling, but its eyes were open.
“Its alive, Lizzie. Its alive… What do I do?”
“What do you mean? Take it to the vet. Youre already heading there anyway. Just hurry up!”
Carefully, I lifted the catit didnt resist, just lay there, breathing heavily. I put it in a shoebox on the back seat and set off.
The clinic was usually half an hour away. But not that day. That day, time stretched into eternity.
In the boot, there was already a dog. An old mixed breed, hit by a train. My holiday neighbours had asked me to take it in”Put it down humanely, dont let it suffer,” theyd said. A stray, nobody really wanted it, but I couldnt say no. And now this cat too.
I sped down the road like a madman, one thought looping in my head:
“What kind of day is this? What kind of life is this?”
At the clinic, there was no queue. I rushed in with the box like I was rushing my wife to labourthe vet took it straight into the exam room.
“Whats wrong with it? How bad is it?” I hovered outside the door.
“Well do an X-ray,” the nurse nodded. “Doesnt seem serious, but we need to be sure.”
Fifteen minutes. An eternity. The clock played tricks on me. I paced, stared at the ceiling, the posters of British Shorthairs and Maine Coons…
And inside me, something gnawed. Not just worryguilt. I hadnt been paying attention. Shouldnt have been driving so fast. So many things couldve been different. Ittiny, defenceless, stepped onto the road a second too soonme, too busy wondering where the turn-off to the clinic was. Just like that. One moment. One fateful clickand there I was, throat tight, begging silently: “Just let it live. Just let me fix this…”
Finally, the vet came out.
“It needs surgery…”
And then I rememberedthe dog was still in the car!
I ran back. Silence. No whining. No movement. I pressed the buttonthe boot slowly opened.
Two frightened eyes stared at me from the dark. It was alive.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Sorry… well figure this out.”
Back to the clinic. I grabbed the veta stern woman with sharp eyes.
“Theres a dog, too. In the boot. Hit by a train, its hind legs… well…”
“We got the call about putting it down… They said it had no chance.”
I froze, words failing me.
The vets face stayed blank. She just grabbed her coat and followed me.
We opened the boot. She looked at the dog, then at me. Her gaze cut through me like an X-ray.
“Are you mad? Who said it needs putting down? Yes, its legs wont heal. But it can live. Weve saved worse. Bring it in.”
I just nodded. Didnt argue. The vet said it would live. That was enough.
That night, I burst into the house. Lizzie turned from the stove, startled:
“Whats wrong with you, Will?”
Without a word, I went to the bedroom, pulled out the old book where Id stashed money. A dream. A motorbike. Didnt matter now.
“Will?! Whats happening?”
“Theyre gonna live!” I shouted. “Both of them!”
“Who? Have you lost it?”
“Ill explain!”
We kept them. The cat became Molly. The dogRex. Together, we got through IV drips, sleepless nights, rehab.
Lizzie just said:
“If theyre with us now, well make it work.”
And she did. Fed Molly, tucked Rex in. We cried when Molly first walked again. Laughed when Rex raced across the yard in a wheelchair.
Five years passed. Theyre not pets. Theyre family.
Today, I came home to the smell of baking. Lizzie hugged me from behind, tight. And she was shaking.
“What happened?” I turned to her.
“Were… expanding,” she whispered, resting a hand on her stomach.
At first, I didnt get it. Then… I did.
Im forty. Shes thirty-seven. We tried for so long. Almost gave up. Almost. But once, a strange woman told us:
“Youll have three children. Two from nature. Onea gift from God. For kindness. For patience. The road wont be easy, but itll be bright.”
Molly was curled up asleep by the window, next to a stuffed rabbit. Rex, old now, shuffled over, leaned against my leg, and sighed.
Back then, I didnt believe it. NowI do.
Because once, we said “yes” to life. And life said “yes” back.
