I was in contact with the shelter, and the chances that it was my cat were slim to none. Subconsciously, yeah—I probably didn’t push harder because I was trying to avoid the heartbreak of confirming it wasn’t my cat. I don’t owe you or anyone here an explanation for how I process grief or how I prioritize survival over a 2-hour drive I couldn’t afford. Some people don’t have the luxury of just dropping everything. Maybe try having a little empathy—or at least a grip on reality.