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Driving along, I remember my first thought clearly: "This cat is either dead or sleeping in a really bad place."

The black cat was curled up inches from the road at the base of a tree. I slowed the car down, beeping the horn to wake him, to scare him away to a better nap spot. He looked up at me, dark blood caked in the fur under his chin, his meow for help silent through my closed passenger window.

He'd been hit by a car. As usual in a crisis situation, I immediately panicked, my heart rattling with a machine gun's urgency. I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car, talking to myself out loud. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

I gently lifted him, trying not to bend his back in case of a spinal injury, and set him in the passenger seat.

Now what?

It was early morning sunrise time. I didn't have a cell phone, so I had to find a payphone. My regular veterinarian was several miles away. If they were closed, I would waste time driving there and still have to find a vet. Better to call first. If my usual vet was closed, I could call around, find another. I didn't entertain the possibility that the cat might die in my car.

The first payphone I found was about to be used by a woman. I explained the situation to her. She refused to give up the phone. I remember she had the coldest blue eyes. I really wanted to wrest the phone from her, but I knew that would not help my (and the cat's) problem. After some words that really should never see print, I drove across the street and found another phone.

It was then I realized I had no money. Great. I dialed the operator and explained the situation to her. She kindly patched me through to my veterinarian's office for free. Thank you, whoever and wherever you are. The vet was not open yet, but of course they would handle an emergency. They wanted me to assure them I would take care of all bills.

A thought flashed across my mind. How much money are we talking about here? My heart's pounding overruled my mind's worry with ease. "Of course I'll pay."

On the drive there, the cat rested his head. "Don't go to sleep on me," I told him, lifting his head up multiple times. I feared he might have a concussion, and having suffered two as a boy falling out of trees, I recalled instructions to avoid sleep immediately following a head injury, or you might never wake.

I arrived at the vet, cat still alive. He was rushed into the back. Outside, I took time to breathe. Well, I did my part, I thought. It's out of my hands now.

The wait wasn't long. The

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