You might have realized from October 19th's "Dead Goats" story that animals at my house don't have the best of luck. The funny thing is there were actually two other goats that died before the massacre. we don't know how they died either, but hey they're goats, whatcha gonna do?
Anyway it turns out that cats, although having more lives than goats, still die. A lot. We've had four cats that I can remember and they've all (by now) met the same fate. We'll start with Pickles. Pickles was a cat. A black cat. We had him and Socks to start with. Socks was also a cat. A gray cat. Pickles was the first to go. Although we never found the body, it was assumed short after his disappearance that he had met a gruesome fate at the hands of some animal or disease. Either way he's very very dead now because that was 12 years ago.
Pickles death wasn't all bad though, because after the departed for that big ball of yarn in the sky we got Nuggy (noog ee). Nuggy didn't seem to last long, but time went faster back then. I distinctly remember finding his body beneath the porch, his mouth agape, his heart stopped and his eyes in that squinty dead cat look that all Advanced Human Bio kids get used to after a while. Nuggy passing was... well, I honestly don't remember really. Nuggy wasn't especially memorable. Though I don't really like cats either.
Hey remember Socks? We don't, cause she's been dead 10 years! She was resourceful though, she survived Pickles and Nuggy. She even survived my sister and mine experiment to see if cats can really land on their feet when dropped- I mean falling upside down. We dropped her from about three feet up and, what do you know, they can. And apparently there's a "run away" reflex that causes them to bolt after hitting the ground, go figure. We wanted to retest from a higher drop point but we couldn't catch her again. And Kelsey (other sister, Socks "owner") got mad. Anyway, Socks was hit by a car.
Billybob, like Pickles, was never actually found. He came to us one day and we fed him and he stayed. Then, when our dog got bigger he left. Without a trace. He's likely dead now but if he's not then he's old. Billybob, if you're reading this, we miss you.
Those four were the only ones we owned (however briefly) but there was that one dead cat we found. it was buried in the garden. Dad thought it was a rabbit at first. He had us all come out to see. And then it was a cat. Yeah. Ooh. And one time I thought I found another one but it turned out just to be a raccoon.
Other than that there's Eloise. but she was dead when we met. She was very wet, smelly and tough. Very hard to open, and even harder to expose vital organs. But my was she beautiful. In a rigor-mortis-ified squitny, dead, formaldehyde way.
