I once killed a small kitten by accident when I was just a small child. I was about ten years old, and we used to have a litter of kittens crawling around in one room in the house, which is where we were watching TV at that particular morning. My younger brother and I were anxiously waiting for The Power Rangers to come up. The Power Rangers was a famous children’s program back then, and we were so excited that we were jumping around the room wildly. I jumped off the couch and landed on the floor, but then I felt something furry and soft squished beneath my feet. I was horrified when I found out that I have accidentally stepped on one of the kittens. The poor creature was paralyzed and severely injured, but it didn’t die - it breathed in short intervals and had a thick line of blood trailing from his mouth. I wept the whole day, and at night I prayed to God really hard for the kitten to heal miraculously. The next morning, I fearfully checked if the kitten was okay – if my prayers were granted – only to find out that the kitten had already died. My father and I buried the kitten at a spot outside of our house later that morning, although that being a long time ago and having grown up now, I've already forgotten where exactly that spot is.