On our way home tonight, Mo and I drove past a cat lying in the road. We drove on in silence for a few blocks. “We should go back,” she said. When we got back there was a very young, scared-looking woman standing guard over it so no cars would run it over. I laid my hand on its side. Warm, but not breathing. I asked her if it was hers; no, he belonged to her neighbor. I asked if she was okay. She didn’t say anything. In the light from an oncoming car that had stopped, I carefully picked him up and carried him to the side. The car that had given me light pulled up, and it was my friend Jana, with her kids. How random, I thought. Her face was full of kindness and concern. She gave me a blanket from her car to wrap the cat in. Her kindness added to mine added to Mo’s added to that young scared woman and her young husband, who joined us from their house, and that kitty all wrapped up in a soft blanket, all our sadness and kindness added together and surrounding his little body, his quiet sendoff committee. Maybe it wasn’t random at all. He was limp and heavy, and had soft fur, like Wispy.