Death and the Scorpio moon

This evening, on the way home from astro class, a small furry animal leapt in front of my car. Before I had time to react there was an ominous thunk. In less time than it takes to type this sentence it was all over. I’d killed it.

In the headlights I hadn’t been able to make out what it was. Perhaps a possum. More likely a small native marsupial of some kind. Probably an endangered species, which I in my heedlessness had nudged ever closer to extinction.

I was devastated. I wondered if the little victim had a baby in its pouch, or a nest of tiny nurslings now destined to starve. I berated myself for not concentrating, for not braking in time. For, after the fact, not turning back to see if, by some miracle, there was anything to be saved. Or at the very least to clear the poor little body off the road.

Once home, I had a fairly typical Piscean breakdown. Floods of tears. Convinced I couldn’t possibly go on in this awful world. Etc.

After (probably wisely) giving me space to sob it out, my Capricorn-sun-Aries-rising-Aquarius-moon husband took me in his arms and talked me through my fears. Next thing I knew he was striding out the door, plakky bag in hand. On a self-imposed mission to inspect the carcass and remove it to a suitable resting place.

On his return, he informed me: it was a rat. A large male rat – so, no starving orphans alone in the nest. A huge, non-native, non-endangered, verminous… rat.

I’m still not happy that I killed a living creature. And I’m not sure what implications, totemic animal-wise, the killing of a rat might have.

But – I must admit I’m relieved.