Today, a little animal broke my heart.

As I closed the door behind me to go to work, I spotted a little tail hiding behind a plant pot thing that my mom has next to the door.  At first glance, I thought it was the little kitty that is friends with my mom's cat and likes to hang around the house (I couldn't see its head) but when it looked up, it was definitely not a cat.  I think it was a possum (I'm not very familiar with these animals).  It didn't run away or try to jump at me or anything, so I stood still and slowly pulled out my phone to try and snap a picture, which by the way didn't work because my camera phone sucks.

I looked at it and said out loud, "So are you trying to take a bite at the turles?"  (The turtles are in the pond next to where it was lying).  I swear it gave me the saddest look anything with eyes can give you, and very slowly tried to move, dragging his hind legs.  It was as if it was answering my question:  "No, I'm hurt, see!"  Then it started dragging itself away from me, and I saw one of its legs completely flat, both obviously broken... and I teared up.  There was nothing I could do, I was already late for work and I didn't even know what kind of animal it was.

I called my roommate, which isn't much help because she doesn't speak English, but I told her about the little creature so that she could look for it when she got home.  I hoped it would still be alive then.  When she got home, she called me and told me that it was dead, in the middle of our driveway.  She called the neighbor so he would throw it out or something, and that's when they found out that it was, in fact, a she, and it had 5 babies that were still alive and attached to their mom's nipples.  The saddest part is that they called some people to come rescue the poor little babies, and they charged a minimum of $170 to pick them up.  Really?!?!  Not ten bucks, or twenty, or even fifty.  A fucking minimum of $170.  Money which neither of us have.

I didn't want to hear the details about what our neighbor did with them.  I just know that when I got home, they weren't there.  I think I know what happened -or will happen- to the babies, but I don't even want to think about it.  I can't help but to feel so horrible about everything though.  There's this little creature who was obviously run over and hurt by a car and she managed to drag herself all the way to my front porch -which is a good 40 ft away from the street, given that it happened right in front of my house- and it's like she came all the way to my door for me to do something, to help her.  And I didn't.  I didn't know what to do, and although I doubt that something could've been done to save her, I'm sure the babies could've survived.  I can't believe that whoever is responsible for picking up stray animals would charge such a ridiculous amount.  Who has $170 to spare just like that?  I know I don't.

Note to the rest of animals that may show up at my doorstep:  I'm not reliable.  Don't come to me asking for help.  It will just break my heart a little more.