My good friend Georgeanne and I were cruising down Russell Avenue one day when I looked out the passenger window and saw a very small grey kitten on the sidewalk, seemingly abandoned.
I immediately alerted George to the situation, and insisted we turn around to rescue it.
There ensued an argument that went something like this.
“We’re not turning around.”
“but we can’t just ignore it”
“Look…we’d have to take it to the vet. Who’s paying for that?”
“we could split the cost” (I didn’t have two dimes to rub together, so this was a bluff and she knew it)
“But we can’t just let it die there.” I was playing a trump card, because she loves animals, too.
All right, goddammit . She executed an angry this is bullshit u-turn, and we headed back to where I had seen the abandoned kitten.
There it was. I said, “look how sick it is. It hasn’t moved an inch.”
As we slowed the car, getting closer, and closer, and closer, we both realized something simultaneously:
It was a stuffed animal.
We laughed so hard and so long we nearly choked. We realized we had just started an imaginary non-profit called Stuffed Animal Rescue. But I think we still get the points.