as the HERO flies…

I was on my way to work a few weeks ago, the traffic gods mercifully smiling down on me (they don’t always), when the driver in front of me suddenly swerved to avoid something in the middle of the road. In a few seconds, it was my turn to veer sideways as I came upon a beautiful tabby cat lying motionless across the center line. Dead. My heart cracked a little.

Then, right as I passed the animal, just as he was leaving my line of sight, came the slightest twitch at the tip of his tail.

It took my brain several seconds to process what I’d seen, and another one to slam on the brakes.

So there I was, stopped on the thankfully not very busy highway, the cat by this point looking distant in my rear-view mirror. I could see no further movement from the animal, and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I’d seen it in the first place.

For an instant, indecision pulled me in two different directions:

Option One: Assume the cat was already dead. The slight tail-twitch I saw could’ve easily just been the wind ruffling the fur.

This notion held appeal for numerous reasons. It would mean the cat was no longer in pain. It would mean me being on time to work, and not having to make any difficult, complicated decisions.

And then there was Option Two:

Go check on the cat, see for sure if it was alive or dead, and then deal with the situation accordingly. If it had passed away, at least I could move the body off to the side of the road. But if it was alive, then things would get complicated. Messy. I would have to get involved.

All of these thoughts flashed through my brain in the span of a blink, maybe two. And then came the words, the ones that always come at times like these. The quote I’ve repeated in my head more than any other:

“Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.” ~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

I was already making my U-turn before the old wizard’s voice had even finished speaking.

I raced back to the cat and put my emergency blinkers on. The rest happened in an anxious blur:

The cat was still alive but in very bad shape. I pulled some gloves on and opened the back hatch of the car. Another driver stopped, also on his way to work, and I felt a rush of gratitude not to be completely alone in the situation anymore. I told him my plan to take the cat to the vet, and he thought I had the situation well in hand (I didn’t feel so sure, but I appreciated the vote of confidence).

I carefully wrapped the cat in an old jacket and laid him on a blanket in the back of the car, apologizing profusely for any further pain I was causing. I called in to work and left a message for the administrators, relaying what had happened. I probably talked a bit louder than necessary in my adrenaline-charged state but hopefully I didn’t yell.

Then we were pulling into a driveway to turn around, and zooming off to the nearest vet.

It took less than ten minutes. As soon as I arrived, I rushed around back to check on the cat. He didn’t look like he was still breathing, but the vet kindly let me bring him in just to double check. Sadly, he had passed on. I wasn’t surprised, but still felt a prickle of tears and a stab of grief for the person whose cat was not coming home that night, or ever again.

The vet promised to check the cat for a microchip and notify the owner if one was found. If not, they would take care of his remains with their stray cat cremation service. I left the jacket with him – a tangible sign that someone had cared for him at the very end – and slowly made my way back to the car and onward to work.

I was only fifteen minutes late – a small miracle, considering – and everyone was very kind and supportive about my decision to help the cat. Most of them probably thought I just naturally did the right thing, that I didn’t even consider doing anything else.

I wish I could say I’m that good of a person, but I’m not. The reason I love that quote from Dumbledore is because it helps me easily distill a hard decision down to its bare essence:

Is this the easy choice, or the right choice? It kinda sucks how often those two are not one and the same.

Sit by the TV with a beer and veg out after a long day at work, or drag yourself off the couch, inject some energy into your voice, and read the kids a bedtime story despite barely being able to keep your eyes open.

Throw your empty yogurt cup in the trash or rinse it out, crush it, and put it with the recycling.

Easy vs. Right. Whether a big decision or a tiny one, the advice works just as well.

Even with the choices laid bare, I still don’t always make the right one. The easy choice is often deliciously tempting because, well, it’s easy. And like I said, I’m not that good of a person. But with a little help from my favorite book series, I am trying to be a better one.