The signs went up on Brookfield Avenue a few months ago. They say things like “Drag Racing’s Illegal” and “Innocent Children/Pets Walk This Street!” Neighbors posted the signs because the road is a cut-through to a main road, which I use to get to the grocery store. I was all for the signs, because I’m in my thirties now, and these days I’m like an elderly person when I drive — my right blinker is almost always on for no apparent reason, and I rarely even get up to the speed limit.

So the other night, I was using the cut-through on my way home from shooting hoops when I saw a dark shape ahead. A squirrel, that had obviously been clipped by a car, was having its death spasms (ie. nonstop somersaults) in the middle of the road. Then it stopped doing flips and started chasing its tail really fast, six inches off the ground like a furry propellor. I drove around the poor little acrobat and got maybe 50 feet away before my conscience made me stop. I could hear it chattering in agony. I knew what I had to do, and it made me feel all the more responsible and mature — not only do I drive slowly these days, but apparently I’m the type of adult who feels compelled to put dying animals out of their misery.

I lined the squirrel under my back right tire, shifted into reverse and stepped on the gas. I thought I felt it, but when I turned around, the squirrel was still doing somersaults in the middle of the road. I veered towards it, but again I missed. The problem was that it was moving around too much. I kept trying. Sometimes I could hear it bang against the undercarriage of the car. I zig-zagged at it. I even tried cutting the wheel into a power slide, but still no luck. It was getting dark and I decided to make one last attempt. A screen door opened to my left.

“Leave that poor animal alone!”

A woman carrying her infant in her arms charged towards the car. I was so panicked that for a second I slammed on the brakes instead of the gas, and the lack of motion made me yelp. As luck would have it, when I peeled away I finally succeeded in running over the squirrel. The woman screamed as I drove off.

Since then, I’ve been taking the long way to the grocery store, and on the rare occasion when I do use the cut-through, I’m so paranoid of getting recognized that I’ve taken to wearing my old white baseball cap and I make sure to drive really fast.