Writing anonymously, the animal owners address the letter to the driver who failed to stop after running over their cat, despite neighbours witnessing the moment she was hit.
They explain that the cat died on the evening of Tuesday 28 August after being run over by a vehicle heading downhill at Dean Park Crescent.
The letter alleges that witnesses heard a thump and watched the 6-year-old feline “fly through the air”.
It goes on to explain that a neighbour, who had been outside smoking at the time, informed the owners of their pet’s tragic demise.
The authors then divulges details of the cat’s fatal injuries, before questioning why the driver did not stop and “at least apologise”.
As it heads towards its conclusion, the letter becomes more and more heartfelt as the authors list the animal’s quirks, habits and characteristics that they will no longer be able to enjoy.
The full letter reads as follows: “Dear Sir,
“This is addressed to the driver who killed our cat at around 9.45pm on Tuesday evening (the 28th of August), going north, downhill on Dean Park Crescent, opposite the end of Ann Street.
“You know who you are.
“Why did you not stop? You must have known you hit her because witnesses heard a thump and saw her fly through the air. Why did you not stop and see if she could be saved? Why did you not stop and at least apologise?
“There were witnesses and a neighbour who was outside smoking on the doorstep came and told us.
“She was still warm when I picked her up and cradled her poor limp body, totally broken by the impact with your car: no blood, not a mark on her, just shattered limbs and catastrophic internal injuries.
“Now she’ll no longer sit on the desk in the window to be admired by passers-by, which she did often.
“She was a small but beautiful tortoiseshell and white cat, less than six years old, with half her life before her. She would sit there proudly, watching life go by on the street and those who did go by often stopped to admire and even photograph her.
“Now we’ll no longer find her curled up in the morning sunshine on the carpet in the front room, or on one of the dining chairs in the afternoon sun.
“She’ll no longer jump on my stomach in the morning telling me loudly that she wants her breakfast before settling down on top of my legs to purr until I finally get up.
“Now she’ll no longer rub her head against her mother’s before coming to me for a welcome and a stroke when she comes in from her hunting, because unfortunately she enjoyed going out to hunt.
“She was young after all. We never let her out the front door but she had learned that by going into the back garden she could access all the gardens in the street and climb over one wall into the mews behind. “Then it was down the mews, round the corner and back up into the crescent which she would cross to get to the Dean Gardens or the Water of Leith where presumably the hunting was better.
“We never liked it but there was little we could do to stop her short of barring her the outside completely and making her an indoor cat.
“And that was her downfall. On Tuesday evening she met your car and she died.
“You could at least have stopped.”
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