Thank you, Quasimodem. That was very kind.
I once hit a raccoon on the way up to Denver, on one of the back roads. Holy, shit, that thing must have weighed 35 pounds (I didn’t get a good look at it). I probably would have went of the road if I had been turning, or if my car didn’t have such good traction control. Last time I was on that road, I almost hit an elk. It was probably an 8x8, but, again, I didn’t get a good look. I think I’ll take the interstate next time.
Probably a plastic bag, but even if it was a cat (and I love cats, we have 4 and we just spent an unhealthy amount of moeny saving one of ours), please don’t concern yourself over it. It’s ok to be sad, but don’t dwell. There was not a single solitary thing you could have done differently.
But it is meaningless to say whether there was a cat in the bag until after you ran it over. Cite.
About 7 years ago I was driving home from work and something brown and furry came dashing out of the woods and under my car. Woods on one side, the side of a cliff on the other, I had no where to go. No where even to conveniently stop to see if the animal could be saved.
I felt so bad I even had a dream about it that night. (In my dream the cops came to see me to find out why I had just had a hit and run.)
Hell, I felt like I’d run over something huge that time I only almost killed Susan Aude.
If you’d’ve hit a cat, you’d know it, Zsofia. It was a bag.
And in the category of “Gratuitous Application Of Quantum Theory” we have … Shodan for the win!
Here’s a box which may and may not have your prize inside.
God, if that isn’t an in-joke I don’t know what is.
That’s no way to talk about Ron Jeremy.
If your had smacked a pussy up in your grill you would know about it from the moaning and screaming.
I don’t break out my A-material for just anybody, you know. 
Nah. Bags of kittens don’t move sideways very quickly.
They don’t float very well either.