Waving goodbye to my mum, Meta, 88, I got in the car.
Between my full-time job as a social worker and caring for Mum after work, I was exhausted.
I can’t wait to have some dinner, I thought, as I began the 20-minute drive home around 7pm.
A minute from my place, though, in my headlights I spotted something furry curled up in a ball, rolling in the gutter on the same side of the road as me.
‘Poor thing must have been hit by a car,’ I fretted.
Putting my hazard lights on, I
