As I was walking out of my house earlier today, I had a vivid vision of the dominant male cat in the upper part of Borgo. Its hind legs and rump squashed by a car, it was lying on its flank and crying plaintively. When I came closer and bent over it, the cat looked straight into my eyes. My first impulse was to run away as fast as I could so as not to witness any more of its suffering. But then I saw myself looking for a big stone to crush the cat’s head. It was beyond help, anyway. As the vision started dissolving, I saw myself looking up and down Borgo once again for fear that someone might see me killing a cat. Few people would appreciate my love of cats, let alone my love of this particular animal. I watched it grow and develop since it was a kitten. Grizzled as it has become over the last couple of years in the street, it always lets me pet it when an opportunity arises. Besides, the way it looked into my eyes in my vision suggested that the cat was actually begging for mercy. How could I possibly fail an old friend in dire straits?