Sometimes it’s hard to watch after our pets. We think they’re under control, but one never knows.

I remember when New York passed its state “cat law” back in the late 1990s. That seemed like common sense at the time; New York already had statutes requiring motorists to search for owners of dogs, cows and horses that fell prey to autos on the road. It seemed like cats should have similar considerations.

The new law required motorists to make “reasonable effort” to find the owner, or report to police when a cat is killed on the highway.
There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but I have to question the wisdom of legislating courtesy and common sense. Responsible motorists will make reasonable efforts to find the animal’s owner, and irresponsible drivers will jump out of their car yelling, “Whose cat is this?” and be on their way.

First, a driver must determine if the cat is actually dead. Not a simple task (as I will explain later). Cats didn’t get their “nine lives” reputation by being a bunch of cream puffs.

Then, the motorist must describe the animal to nearby residents. No piece of cake, either. A housewife asks, “What does the cat look like?”

The driver says, “Well it’s about a foot-and-a-half long and an inch thick.”

“No,” she says. “I mean what did it look like before you hit it?”
“Scared!” the driver replies.

Dogs are even worse. We could ask a western Washington woman about that. This lady was driving to church one evening when a dog ran out in front of her car, and she hit it. She got out of her car, but could readily see the creature was just a mass of blood and fur.
The young woman thought the poor thing might still be alive, so she raised the hatchback on the car and lifted the animal in. No easy feat when you are all dressed up for an evening church service.

Then, our conscientious young lady started looking for the dog’s owner. She drove up and down the road, knocking on doors and describing the animal to everyone she could find. No one owned a dog that looked anything like that.

Finally, she decided the creature wasn’t going to last much longer. She could take it to the all-night veterinarian  across town, and maybe he could save it. The young woman arrived at the vet’s office 20 minutes later.

The vet walked out to her car while she waited for the sad news about her canine companion. He returned quickly.

“I have some bad news for you, ma’am,” he said. “Your dog is doing fine. But, your dog isn’t a dog. It’s a coyote! And you aren’t going to like what he’s doing to your car.”

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.