In 2003 my brother was driving home late at night and saw, near his house, an animal in distress. He stopped to take a closer look and discovered it was a cat that had recently been hit by a car. The car had vanished.
He carefully put the animal in his car and drove him to a nearby 24-hour vet, which was able to patch him up – all injuries were superficial.
My brother then advertised for the owner to come and collect the cat but no-one came forward and soon he was given a name, Rocco, which quickly meant he had a home if he needed one.
The two ended up living together for three years but, in 2006, my brother moved in with his girlfriend, who was allergic to cats. Keen to find a permanent home for Rocco, the cat was dropped off at our parents' for what was meant to be a few days as a new owner was sought.
Rocco never left my parents' house as they also fell in love with him. He lived for another four years and brought joy and meaning to them - even now, above the television in the living room, sits three pictures, me on the left, my brother on the right and Rocco in the middle.
And all because my brother did what the person who drove the car back in 2003 should have done.