A few months ago, my mother ran over a cat with her car. The cat was in very bad shape with a good portion of its head deformed. Despite checking the local houses, she could not find an owner for him. Due to allergies, she could not bring the cat in her house (actually, she first tried to drop him off at our house), but made a bed for him in her garage. She took the cat to the vet the following day (having hit the cat at night). The vet said that the cat was surprisingly uninjured, although the cat did seem to be missing an eye, but the vet believed the eye had probably been surgically removed at an earlier time. Rather than euthanize the cat, my mom wanted to give him a chance to recover, so she took him home again.
Over the next night, the cat's head resumed its normal shape and the "missing" eye popped back into place. Aside from the tendency to walk a bit sideways, he recovered quite quickly, so my mother named him "Rebound" (my father tried to name him "Out of Here"). My mother's best friend had recently passed away, and my mother felt that Rebound's miraculous recovery was a balance to that. They decided to keep the cat long enough for him to recover from the crash that he could be safely neutered and then released into the wild.
Rebound turned out to be an amazingly affectionate cat, and quickly became an unofficial part of my parent's home. Although still not allowed in the house, they purchased toys and a bed which they kept in the garage for him. During the colder parts of the winter, my mother would check on him through the night to make certain that he was okay, and when they left on vacations, they had my wife check on him at least once a day.
As the days got warmer (and downright hot), my parents started leaving the garage door open so Rebound could venture outside. While he did some exploring, he rarely wandered far from the house. My mother regaled all of us about his antics. Even though she was still seeking another home for him (especially hoping that he would go to my sister's new house once they finished renovating and moved in), it was clear that he had become her cat.
Yesterday, I called my wife on my way home from work as I usually do when I'm not carpooling. I use the hands-free system in Mera (my Toyota Prius). Normally there isn't a problem with connecting to our home number immediately, but this time it pulled up both my home number and my mother's number and asked me to choose which one to call. I know this sounds weird, but I immediately had a premonition (which I ignored) that my mother was in distress and that I needed to talk to her.
Instead, I chose my home number. When Janelle answered, she first asked if I had seen the text she sent; I had not. She said, "Your mom's been in an accident," and my heart stopped. She then continued, "The cat didn't make it." It took me a bit to realize what that meant. It seems that Rebound ran under one of the wheels of her car as my mother pulled into the driveway. This time, he did not survive.
I did call my mother then to check on her and to see if there was anything I could do to help. My father had already buried Rebound and my mother had already gathered all of Rebound's things and delivered them to my house. There was nothing more for me to do than to offer my sympathies.
My mother is taking this rather hard. Rebound's original recovery was quite the miracle; this more recent accident seems to be such a cruel act of fate. While I partially wish that Rebound had not ever entered my mother's life, I also feel that he brought her joy and she gave him a few more months of enjoyable life that he otherwise would not have had. In the end, I think that both were better off for having known one another.
Rest in peace, Rebound.