This morning I was doing the hill on Effie, a residential Silver Lake street, focusing on working my sleepy limbs while Gordon sniffed about with even more devotion than usual, given the lovely petrichor. Suddenly, just a few meters away, I saw an average, humble squirrel collide silently with an anonymous, black SUV. It was tossed into the air acrobatically and its tail trailed its body like a rhythmic gymnast’s ribbon. It landed like cats and squirrels do, easily on the feet, and scampered over to the parkway on the opposite side of the street to die in the vine-y groundcover. It was shocking to witness this creature’s violent death – I almost felt I was intruding on a very private moment. It also awakened memories of two childhood traumas when I saw our pet cats get run over by slow-moving vehicles. The squirrel was uncomplaining and went so quietly that Gordon and the SUV didn’t notice.