On my tenth birthday I got a kitten ("Myran") from my mum. For a long time I did not know what to do with the little thing. She was so small and soft and...I don't know...cute. In many ways, she was a ridiculous animal. Sad excuse for a cat.
Afraid of everything, needy, clumsy and lazy. I remembered reading a book about a kitten being put in a bag and then trown into the river. Sad story for everybody involved. I thought about that for a while. But it was to far to the river. Mum would'nt let me go there on my own. Maby I could just strangle the little kitten? I've heard about small babyes dying in their sleep, this "infant death" thing. Maby that applies to kittens aswell? Hm. No.
I decided to give the pathetic animal a chance, and after a few weeks I really started to love the fucking thing. Myran and I became really good friends, and I regretted wanting to murder her before. She slept in my bed every night, warmed my feet when I was cold.
The day before my thirteenth birthday Myran was run over by a car. The car did'nt stop and Myran did't die. At once. Half her body (the end part) was kind of...flat and soft (In a bad way), and she screamed like an old lady with a troat issue. Mum had to ask out neighbor to take her to the back of our house and shoot her.