A DEAD CAT

I was talking to my wife on the phone earlier today. She was outside with our dogs while I was at work.

Suddenly she says, "I gotta go, Clementine is in the street".

Clementine is our dopey cocker spaniel. She squeezes through the fence on occasion and meanders around in the neighbor's yard, usually being persuaded to escape by one of the stray cats that populate our neighborhood.

We always get her back inside.

We spank her.

We say "no!"

She runs into the backyard and rolls in dirt.

Jade called me back a few minutes later and says that Clementine was standing in the road, smelling it and tasting it - the schnoz berries taste like SCHNOZ BERRIES! But all is well now. She's back inside and I say a little prayer and thank God that my dog has escaped a cruel fate once again.
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I got home from work the other night (morning) and walked down to the grocery store at about 4am to buy some Cheez-its and Golden Puffs cereal (in the bag, not the box) and I see my neighbor lady putting food out for all these stray cats - the ones that live around here - they're all just following her around, the six of them, like she's the Pied Piper.

It doesn't bother me. Some people hate stray cats. I sort of like them. They're not friendly but I think they give a certain ambiance that I'm a fan of.

Anyway, I'm not sure if they're HERS or if they're strays and she just feeds them, but it's obvious that she cares for them - I mean emotionally, not just food-wise.

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So, I just got home from work this morning - it's about 4:30 in the am - I come around my corner and see something in the street, just laying there - it's about the size of a..........cat...

Dang it.

I pull the car up, shine the headlights on the mass in the road.

Yeah - dead cat.

I park the car and debate what to do, finally deciding to pull my garbage bin out into the street, grab a shovel and a pooper-scooper and lift the cat into the garbage can. The thought of just grabbing it with my hands crosses my mind, but for some reason I can't bring myself to do it....which is funny, because I was attempting to pet this very cat last night...

The animal is much heavier than I ever would have imagined and very stiff. When I lift him or her up and peel it off the street, the smell of dead things hits me. It's not bad enough to gag, but enough to make me want to hurry this process along.

I drop the cat in the garbage can, wondering if putting a cat in a garbage can is something Clark Cunningham would do. I think about digging a shallow grave in our dead garden, but ultimately decide against it because I don't want my dogs to exhume the corpse.

I also think about just leaving it out there - letting someone else deal with it...and then I think about the lady next door.

Do you think she would be happier if she woke up, saw the dead cat and was able to accept it's fate or is it better for the cat to just stop showing up?

I mean...bottom line - the cat WILL just stop showing up. I'm not digging that thing outta the trash - but I don't know.

I kept thinking...if Clementine was hit by a car, would I want to walk into my front yard and see my dopey cocker spaniel stuck to the street with blood running from her ears, drying her face to the concrete or would I rather her just.........disappear.

I said another quick prayer, thanking God that that cat was NOT Clementine. Six hours ago, she stood in the same spot the cat laid.
I came inside and washed my hands with soap three times then threw the towel that I used to dry them in the dirty hamper.

There's something about dead animals that makes me feel unclean.