By John 
A Waymo self-driving car is making waves in San Francisco—and not in a good way. It plowed into KitKat, a legendary Mission District feline who ruled the corner of 16th and Valencia like a tiny, furry mayor. The tabby wasn’t just some random stray; he was practically mascot of Randa’s Market, holding court near the entrance or dozing in cardboard palaces. Social media adored him. “Bodega Cats of Instagram” made him a minor celebrity. Now? Gone.
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The mood around here? Grim. Folks are gutted. When Randa’s dropped the news online, the tributes flooded in. Then came the ugly twist: a Waymo robot taxi, allegedly, crushed him while he lounged curb-side. Quiet rage simmered. Flowers and photos piled up at the scene like accusations.
Autonomous cars? Great in theory. But cram them into chaotic streets where kids dart, drunks weave, and cats sunbathe? Suddenly, all those fancy sensors feel… lacking. Waymo, Alphabet’s pet project, keeps stuffing the city with these driverless pods, promising safety. KitKat’s death? A messy reminder that tech still trips over real-world chaos.
The Mission lost more than a cat. It lost a thread of its weird, wonderful soul. KitKat was family. Now there’s just an empty spot by the delivery boxes, and a neighborhood wondering what—or who—gets hit next.
Shawn Henry