On Saturday, my cat Marley was killed by some asshole driving down my street. I buried her in my backyard. I sat on my knees over the hole I had dug and told her I was sorry, sorry I let her out, sorry I wasn't there to protect, sorry there was nothing I could do but her in this hole.
I cried a little and held my remaining kitties closer that night. (They were like...what the fuck, man?)
It's been a few days now and I've had bouts of sadness, but today I started to feel angry, angry at myself for not letting her in twenty minutes earlier. Twenty minutes, and she'd still be up on the cat tree, purring when I walked by.
But I also felt angry at the car that killed her. Life is so fragile and the world so uncaring, but that doesn't mean you have to go barreling around killing cats.
Some people love those cats.