Christina and the Cat

Okay, so the people were back again today, and I am very pleased to say that the people were actually ones I knew! This time, it involved me, my friend Christina, my friend Cheyenne, and a cat. Yeah, weird, but this is what happened:
Characters: Me, Christina, Cheyenne, the cat
Scene: My front yard

"Christina, isn't there anything you can do?"
"I- I don't know," she stuttered, shaking her head. "I normally don't deal with this kind of stuff."
Cheyenne giggled, staring at what was left of the mess of the cat. Cheyenne was like that sometimes.
"C'mon, Christina, you're studying to become a doctor," I whined, still keeping my eyes on the cat.
"Yeah, but not that kind of doctor. A people doctor. Not a veterinarian," she explained, her glaze never leaving the poor feline in front of us.
The cat had been run over by a bike, and was now just laying there on the sidewalk, apparantley ready to die. I wouldn't let it. That was a stupid way to die. Not a good enough excuse for me. Before the incident, the cat was perfectly healthy. She (or he, I can never tell on cats) was just in the wrong place at extremely the wrong time. Christina bent over to take a peek at the damage.
"Ooh, carion," Cheyenne cooed.
"No, not carion," Christina retorted, "Not yet, anyway."
Cheyenne picked up a stick, apparantley ready to poke.
"Don't Cheyenne," I warned.
"Oh c'mon, it's long gone to the litter box in the sky. Look at it. Even if I was about to die like that, I wouldn't led someone prod at me for that long without a single hiss."
"Cheyenne, I don't think she's dead quite yet," Christina said, pulling out an ace bandage from her pocket and preparing to wrap the feline's leg.
"Oh, it's so a goner!" Cheyenne shouted, apparantley becoming frustrated.
"Cheyenne, I'm telling you, the cat is still alive."
I just stood there, watching the two argue, looking for any signs of life within the cat. I wanted so badly to believe Christina, but something in my gut told me Cheyenne might be right.
"Gross," I said aloud, thinking of the mess I would have to clean up if in fact the cat was dead.
"What?" said Christina.
"Never mind," I whispered, trying to conceal my disgust as concern. It wasn't working very well.
"It is so dead," Cheyenne continued, slightly smiling. "You've just got that whole, 'Doctor ego' thing going on and don't want to admit it. It's dead."
"Cheyenne, the cat is not dead," Christina hissed agrily.
"Oh yes it is," Cheyenne argued, picking up the stick and prodding the cat.
"Meow," was the last thing I heard before "I told you so"s rang through the sky.
***

I really like this one. It's kind of sad, but very smart. (Oh, and by the way, the people later told me that the cat was fine.) :)