Just to be clear, what happened was an accident. I ran over my neighbor’s cat with a lawnmower. I know, sounds tragic, only in this case, it turned out not to be. Somehow the cat, whose name is Clytemnestra, escaped with just four stitches on its right hind leg and a tail that wasn’t furry anymore.

I never saw the cat sitting in my grass. Possibly, she was stealthily tracking a mouse. It was a Thursday; dusk, but the grass was too high to let it sit another day. My wife Rhonda had been pestering me to cut it all week. It was our turn to host the neighborhood open house that Friday. Anyway, the lawnmower stalled which probably helped matters. Everyone on our block heard the cat screech. Clytemnestra crawled out from under the mower, looking bewildered.

I picked her up and hurried to my neighbor’s front door. Clarissa was already on her way outside. I handed her the cat and said, “I’m sorry. What can I do to help?” Her husband was away on business.  

By this time Rhonda had joined us. Then Clarissa’s two daughters met us on the front stoop. Seeing their mother was crying, the two girls began to sob. I wasn’t sure what to do. “Watch my girls while I take Clytemnestra to the Vet, dumb ass,” Clarissa said. Actually, she said some other things, but repeating them won’t be helpful.

I offered to drive her to the vet so she could hold her Clytemnestra. The cat was trembling, but wasn’t bleeding much, which I thought was a hopeful sign. Clarissa noticed a small bump on Clytemnestra’s head which led to a few more choice words spat in my direction. Finally, she agreed to let me drive, saying, “If you think you can get us there in one piece let’s go.”  Clarissa and her husband Ray have been our neighbors for nine years. Other than when the Friday night martini flag was out, our families didn’t socialize.

While we were driving I tried to make a little conversation. “How old is Clytemnestra?” I asked.

“She’s nine. She’ll be ten next month, if she lives through this ordeal you put her through, dumb ass.”                 

Now, I’m pretty sure Clarissa knows my name is Fred, but I can’t say I ever heard her actually say my name. “Clarissa, I’m really sorry about this. I hope you know I wasn’t trying to hurt your cat.”

“How do I know that? I mean what kind of man is so…careless that he actually doesn’t see a cat sitting in front of his lawnmower?”

I was doing my best to be patient. We don’t have any pets, never did, but I can see that for some people, pets are a member of the family. “She was sitting low in the grass, hiding maybe. Don’t know what she was doing in my yard.” As soon as I said that, I knew I made a mistake.

“What are you trying to say? That it’s my fault you ran her over? That I should have been more careful, is that it?” She started crying again.

We arrived at See Puff Run, the veterinarian hospital, so I didn’t have to respond. Instead, I said, “Please don’t worry about the bill for this. Rhonda and I will take care of everything,” She jumped out of the car and started toward the emergency room door.

I got out to follow her, but she turned and said, “Wait here dumb ass.” I guessed that was my new name. Or, had she always thought of me that way? It took just over an hour for her to come out the front door with a bandaged Clytemnestra in her arms.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“She’s going to be fine. The doctor said she was very lucky. And so are you,” she added. “My husband was quite annoyed when I spoke with him.”

“I’m glad your cat is going to be all right,” I said. We came to a traffic light. I turned my body to face her. Very deliberately, I said, “If your annoyed husband wants to talk to me, just tell him to call me.”  The cat’s survival was no longer in doubt. I had been a perfect gentleman, but I was done playing a punching bag.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the Vet’s bill. It was for $1,749. “This is yours. There will be some follow up visits and grooming costs later on, okay?”

I nodded and shoved the bill into my glove compartment. When we got home the girls came running out to see their cat. Rhonda followed them. She apologized to Clarissa and mentioned that she gave the girls a snack. Clarissa didn’t say a word. She just gathered the girls and led them into the house. 

When Rhonda and I finally sat down in our living room, she had a drink waiting for me. “How was it?” she asked.

“Unpleasant. It’s going to cost us two grand before we’re done. And, apparently my name is dumb ass now.”

“I just remembered that my sister called while you were out. Her cat had kittens last week. Maybe we should take one, a male, I think.”

“You want to name him dumb ass?” I asked.

“Actually, I was thinking Agamemnon.”