I killed a raccoon last weekend.
Actually, the raccoon killed himself.
I was merely the instrument of suicide.
The varmint vamoosed across the road at exactly the right time.
Half a second sooner or later and there would be nothing to write about.
The timing was so precise it had to be intentional.
Perhaps the raccoon’s personal struggles finally broke him.
It was dark so I couldn’t see his face.
I couldn’t tell if he’d been crying.
(Plus, he was wearing a mask.)
Perhaps I’m wrong and it was totally accidental.
Perhaps it was just chance.
Evolution has not yet gifted raccoons with the ability to avoid speeding vehicles.
Nature used me and my car to remove some stupidity from the gene pool.
Science killed that critter!
After the incident, my wife asked, “Are you going to turn around and go see it?”
Two wheels and two bumpers at 50 miles an hour is a confirmed kill.
There is no reason to return to the scene.
And I remembered another story.
Two little kids were playing in the street when my mother drove past.
She stopped the car and got out.
She asked the kids where they lived.
She marched them up to the house, knocked on the door and talked to the adult that answered.
Back in the car, Mom told me those kids “were too little to play in the street by themselves”.
Mom wasn’t much for science.
Her humanity wouldn’t let ‘nature take its course’.
There are other forces at work in the universe besides nature.
If you don’t believe me…
…I can show you a dead raccoon.