  Guess I was being somewhat prophetic with that last post - things being shitty and all. Fida died last night. She was struck and killed almost instantly by a van. We were outside, Kurt was just dropping me home from work, I got off at 7pm.
Fida was playing jerkface, and ran under the car. I always think that was her ploy to keep us from leaving. Anyways, she ran out from under the car, and was just barely on the road. Usually, she does this squeeze-and-crouch number when she's near the road - she had always been extremely road savvy. This time, though, she was startled, or lost her head, or something - she darted onto the road. I didn't see or hear the van until a split second before the impact.
I had a crazy thought that she dodged the wheels. I mean, if any cat was smart enough to do that it was Fida. She knew her name, obeyed commands; she was brilliant. Kurt chased the guy in the van down. I was on the road, sitting next to her as I did months ago, in the winter, with Cordy.
Kurt screamed and screamed at the guy. Kurt, generally speaking, doesn't curse. He cursed a lot at the driver, called him a fucking asshole, and kept screaming mostly unintelligible obscenties at the driver. Kurt must've scared him; unshaven, blood running down his face (Fida had scratched him badly on the face and arms). I sat on the road with Fida until Kurt came back. I couldn't move. I had my hand on the fur of her belly. She had stopped breathing, of course, but she was warm. I made the mistake of trying to examine her.
Old habits die hard, I guess, and I moved forward to close her eyes. Her jaw had been broken, and nearly torn away. I remember thinking that the fucker driver had not only killed her- he ruined her. We were still outside when a lady came. She was in the van, and she came to tell us how sorry she was; that the driver was on vacation from Ontario, and he had tried as best he could not to hit Fida.
I thought that was decent of her. There was something, though, that made me suspicious; she kept asking what exactly Kurt had yelled at the driver. It occured to me later that perhaps the driver and company were looking for a way to charge Kurt; uttering death threats or some such. Kurt didn't say anything of the sort of course, but he did almost attack the guy. He was moving in to hit him when he saw children looking out the back window of the van.
Thank God for them, I'm not sure what would have happend if those kids weren't there. I keep wondering if this is really what life's about; amassing horrible memories til your heart bursts. Fida's broken jaw, Cordy with blood leaking out her nose. Soon it will be people, right? Because that's the problem - over time everyone's survival rate drops to zero. I think it's part of the disease (but it could be full on cowardice), but all I can think is that I have to get out of here now, away from people, animals, plants, everything, because I can't handle the loss.
I'd say I want to drop dead, but there's a logic problem there; I'd be inflicting grief on some body else, and that's not right. But I would like to have people forget me, just kind of fade away while I move to a tiny island in the middle of nowhere.
I seriously feel like an ass. So many people in poverty, in fear, in agony and suffering, and I'm waxing dramatic about an end to a beloved pet's life; and end that was with very little pain, and a happy life before that. I still want to scream, though. I still want to wreak horrible revenge on speeders everywhere. I want to go to sleep, and then wake up with Fida licking my eyes, and Cordy farting. I want to punch through glass, through brick, through anything hard and unyielding. 
