x365: 48 of 365: the neighbour who killed my cat

You are one my first memories. I was two years old. We lived on the second floor of the house on Vernon Street. My father answered a knock on the front door and I saw you standing there, holding a cardboard box. I think this may be yours, you said. I can't remember anything after that, but apparently you had left the hood of your car up and Macavity had crawled in. I don't remember Macavity at all - only you, holding out a box at our door.