You were small, but you were strong. You had a delicate ear, attuned to the slightest sound. Things that I would never hear, even with an amplifier, were everyday noises to you. Maybe you had become too acclimated to some of those noises we have pushed upon you as we invade your world.
You had a sensitive nose. You could smell things that no human nose could detect. Constant twitching, constant sensing, another way for you to avoid danger.
You had bright eyes, watching for the dangers overhead....the dangers around you, and the dangers behind you.
But it was not enough.
It was not enough when the vehicle two cars ahead of me hit you and sent you flying across the road, shearing your delicate skin and fur, crushing your back legs, spilling your blood and organs, and putting terror into your heart. You tried, so hard, as I drove forward, pulling yourself forward on little front paws, one in front of the other...just to...reach....the.....grass.
I was not enough to save you. For that, I weep. For each and every one of you who dies at the hand of man, I weep.
But perhaps the Goddess chose that time for you, because she knew I was there. Perhaps, she knew that I carried the "emergency towel" in the trunk for moments like this.
She knew that I would pull over immediately, and run to pull you aside so that no more carnage would occur. She knew I would hold you until the terror passed, and your spirit rose to meet her. She knew I would take you home, and give you a resting place far from the madding crowd, where you would lay beneath the playground of so many of your kind who visit daily and share the bounty of my home.
Perhaps then, it was enough, just to know that you were loved.