So. Everyone ready for the latest installment of 'Surely She Didn't?'
Let me paint a picture. It's about 7:00 p.m. on a rainy night. The light is fading, it's thundering, and the lightning is starting. See our favorite female nitwit (and the ubiquitous 12 year old male offspring) driving along a very busy, four lane, divided highway. Dinner-hour traffic. Did I mention the rain? Okay, just checking.
Driving along, minding her own business, the aforementioned nitwit has one goal... get home and OUT of the generally nasty weather. Watching everything around her as she drives (as she's a very conscientious driver), our heroine (oops, did I say heroine? Getting ahead of myself...) suddenly has a 'wtf?' moment...
Was that a kitten?
Still driving, she plays back the visual that just processed in her tired brain. Small, furry white face, blinking up from the left shoulder of the road. Yes, definitely kitten. Kitten with some kind of injury or mental issue, as it was crouched on the pavement just inches from the passing cars and yet it made no move to take itself off to safer places AWAY from tires and things. Just laid there, blinking and...
Shit.
A mile passes. Two. Next exit one mile ahead... you already know what's coming, don't you?
Our nitwit gets off at the next exit. Cue 12 year old male offspring asking where she's going. She begins to explain about the briefly seen kitten, instructing him to look for a towel in the back of the car (she's sure she just saw one back there, contrary to his immediate report that all he can find is one of her workout t-shirts. Oh, FINE, that will do... Abercrombie and Fitch was never intended for kitty rescue, but what the hell) while she turns around and gets back on the highway going back in the direction of the ferocious storm clouds they'd just been ahead of.
See? Told you you saw it coming, didn't I?
Back we go, racing along (did I mention the RAIN?) toward the site of the briefly glimpsed furball. See our heroine doing the math and realizing she'll have to go one exit PAST where she saw the kitten, as it's on the wrong side of the exit and... ARRRGGGHHH. So, down one more exit. Get off and sit waiting at the bottom of the ramp for the light to change. That would be the light that is apparently run by SATAN, as it takes approximately the same length of time to change as your average MAN. Finally, it changes, and our heroine darts under the highway, lucking into a green light on the other side before shooting back up onto the highway.
She is on a mission.
She has the 12 year old scoot over to the left side of the car to help watch for the small, white face that could be easily missed on a second drive-by, especially with the traffic zooming by and the weather. She's fairly certain she knows where it was, but it was such a flash, and she can't be totally sure. Driving slowly (incurring the wrath of many drivers that obviously don't KNOW she's on a kitten-saving mission, therefore have no desire to see her driving under the fucking speed limit when they have VERY IMPORTANT PLACES TO BE, DAMMIT!), she scans the road, praying the kitten isn't already flattened by a driver less observant than herself. She sees nothing. She finally says, 'I guess she ran away... I don't see her anywhere', and begins to accelerate.
Shit.
There she was. Just flew by her.
Brakes are engaged, though one can't slam on brakes in a storm. Eventually coming to a stop, quite a distance from the previously mentioned furball, our nitwit ends up pulled over on the right side of the road under an overpass. (Anyone remember that the kitten is on the LEFT side of the road?) Watching for a clearing in traffic, she finally jumps out of the car and begins running down the shoulder of the road. (Allow me to point out here that flip flops and hip-hugger jeans are NOT the recommended wear for a jog in the RAIN. Just FYI.) Cars are tearing by, and she's sure they're all figuring that she's insane at this point (most being oblivious to the KITTEH... that needs SAVING!), and on top of the deluge from above, she's also now being drenched repeatedly by the spray from the cars as they pass. On she goes, though she can barely see out of her glasses now (they're pretty much useless, covered in drive-by car sludge and rain... did I MENTION THE RAIN?), waiting for her opportunity to cross over to the LEFT side of the road.
Finally it comes. She runs across, watching ahead for the little patch of white that she prays is still alive. She can't see it... can't see it... God, please don't let it be.... wait! WAIT!
Kitty...
There the poor thing is. It's still as pathetic as she'd seen in that faster-than-light moment... lying there, RIGHT next to the white line, so in shock that it doesn't even twitch when a car or truck goes by just inches from its head. She approaches, careful to be as out of the way of traffic as she can manage (kinda hard, right on the shoulder, but she tries), and gently reaches out to touch the kitty. Its face is away from her, and when she touches it, it doesn't even flinch. No reaction at all. She scoops it up carefully, bringing its soaking wet body up against her breast as she starts talking to it, attempting to soothe it. It shakes like a leaf, huddling into her. So in shock...
Our heroine begins the journey back to the car. It seems even further now than it was before. She can't run, as she doesn't know if the kitty is injured and doesn't want to be jerking it all over with the motion of running. So she walks, as quickly as she can, toward the car. The wet, dirty, pathetic kitten makes a few small 'mew' noises, but is mostly silent. Just shaking. She prays it isn't severely hurt, and curses people that abandon animals on the road. It happens a lot, people just get tired of having an animal and decide a drive-and-dump is the easiest solution, but if she could get her hand on the asshat that did it right that minute, she'd cheerfully rip his/her arms off and stuff them into a wood chipper.
Just sayin'...
Where were we?
Oh, yes. She gets back to the car, and the boy is waiting in the back seat with the workout t-shirt at the ready. Carefully, she wraps up the pitiful thing in the t-shirt, setting the new guest then in the lap of the offspring, for comfort and safety on the trip home. The furry visitor collapses in the boy's lap, making no sound, just... shaking. But at least safe, now. And our nitwit? Wet, dirty, and no small amount of confuckled from the whole experience, but still, overall? Happy that she got there in time.
See?

*sighs* I swear, I should be sedated...
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