Rowan (for lack of a better title)

The passing cars' headlights pick out the glint of an animal's eyes. They blink slowly.

In a pause between two cars, its figure can be dimly seen.

It's a cat-- a tom in his prime. Black and white fur puffed up

by the wind, he continues to stare across the road.

Soon. It isn't a word, but the cat's thoughts might be,

"Soon I'll run across, but not yet."

His tail twitches in anticipation. Soon he'll be on the other side:

away from the road, closer to the rich meadows he can see between cars.

There he'll hunt for his dinner.

Now! He dashes out onto the road. Paws pounding, he swerves

to avoid a bit of human junk. No time to snatch it up now.

A car looms suddenly. With a startled yowl he jumps away; the front tire

clips his shoulder. He spits angrily.

**

In the car, a young woman sits bolt upright. "Stan," she exclaims, "Stan, pull over! We just hit something."

The driver, nearly her own age of twenty-one, grunts a negative.

He clutches the steering wheel fiercely.

"Stan, stop the car. I think we almost bulldozed a cat."

He finally glances at her, puzzlement writ large in his dark eyes.

"A cat, Beth?"

Beth nods, wide-eyed.

"A cat." Stan turns the wheel. "All right. We'll pick him up and take him

to Dr. Morton."