And then...the cat CAME BACK!
January 12, 2017
DISCLAIMER: This column neither encourages nor endorses the abuse or mistreatment of animals. However, this column urges the proper disposal and/or burial of said animals once they are deceased. And with that kind of intro we now have everyone’s attention…
“But the cat came back the very next day. The cat came back; we thought he was a goner.
But the cat came back; it just couldn’t stay away. Away, away, yea, yea, yea!” Excerpted lyrics from ”The Cat Came Back” a comic song written by Harry S. Miller circa 1893.
Monday afternoon: Coming home from work, stopping to check the mail, my eyes are met with a horrific sight. There, lying in the front yard is Quincy, our three year old Shih Tzu. How had he gotten out of the fence? More importantly, how had he gotten out of the house? Even more importantly, if he was out then who might have gotten in whilst he was getting out? There were a lot of “importants” to consider, so I pull into the drive and put it in park.
As I approach, my heart aches, poor lil Quinn looked squished flat. Had someone run him over then tossed his body into the yard? Who would have done such a thing? What will I tell my wife? She’ll be devastated! Who was in my house? Why didn’t I wear my other pants to…oh wait…that’s a cat! To be more precise, what’s left of a cat. The poor thing was crushed, eviscerated, dried out and its face was frozen in a shocked look of terror. Its death must have come as quite a surprise to it. Without a second thought a shovel is obtained and the former feline is respectfully interred in the small wooded lot across the way.
Tuesday afternoon: Once again pulling in, with the last thing on my mind the events of the previous afternoon “But the cat came back the very next day.” There it is, sitting or rather sprawling in front of the back gate. Caution is used in approach; with thoughts that a potential Pet Semetary event could be occurring. Zombie cats? Why had I never studied zombie cats? Luckily the cat is still just dead not undead. Once again a shovel is obtained and…hmmm how odd the original grave is undisturbed. Was this a different dead cat? Well the afternoon wasn’t going to be wasted exhuming bodies for comparison. Once again I buried the cat.
Wednesday afternoon: “What’s New Pussy Cat?” I ponder, full of apprehension pulling into the drive and…no cat. Dead or otherwise…Whew!
Thursday afternoon: And- “the cat came back the very next day.” This time it’s propped up in front of the garage, watching me pull in with its eyeless stare. Am I losing my mind? Was this another dead cat? No, it’s the same dead cat; I am quite familiar with this dead cat by now. At this point maliciousness comes to mind. Was someone f***ing with me? Paranoia sets in as my eyes scan the area for some sadistic prankster hiding nearby. Who in their right mind would…wait a minute…the dogs! That’s it! Dogs like to play with dead stuff. So obviously they’re… digging up the cat then filling in the hole? Gravesite two is undisturbed so there goes that theory. Dead cat (no.3?) goes back into the first grave which is thankfully empty. Well at least we know there’s not a serial cat killer around. Whilst filling in the grave a terrible thought comes to mind: cats have nine lives. Should I just go ahead and dig six more holes?
Friday afternoon: Hello Kitty! The thing is in the yard again. Due to severe decomposition it has reached the “thing” stage at this point. Why bother with a shovel? What difference will it make? Just grab a stick and “cat”-apult it outta here. Ack… the stick has broken! The cat’s deadness has fallen upon me! Anger and disgust overpower hygiene as I grab the thing up with my bare hand and pitch it…right on top of the neighbor’s mailbox. Well…that’s not good. OK another stick and we’ll just…stick broke again…and now it’s on the neighbor’s car. Sigh…I’ll get the shovel.
Both original graves remain undisturbed which is very discontenting. As I prepare to dig yet another hole inspiration strikes. Rather than bury it…again, I carefully place the corpse in the lower hanging branches of a tree. Cats like trees right? Now maybe its soul will be at rest. And apparently this works because the cat doesn’t come back…immediately.
Saturday morning (two weeks later): A bright sunny day finds me in the front yard staring down at what is by now an unwelcome yet familiar sight. “The cat came back…” if you could actually call it a cat at this point. Three legs and enough fur and gristle to hold them together are all that remains, any attempts to move it results in parts falling off.
Whether this is some elaborately morbid prank or act of the gods I have had quite enough. It can stay right there and rot in peace, while I go and fire up the push mower.
Some problems just won’t go away, no matter how hard we try. We can try to ignore them, bury them in our subconscious or try to reason them out. We can become angry, blame others for our problems and still not find a lasting solution. Sometimes it’s best just to accept our fates. To resolve that we’ll have to exercise patience till the problem dissipates on its own with the passage of time.
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