My Cat Is A Killer*

And I have to pick up the pieces. Literally.

This morning, when I opened the front door, I almost stepped on the ripped and shredded stomach of a mutilated rabbit. The rabbit's severed and severely chewed head was to my right, his feet further to my right. His carcass was to the left and his tail was straight ahead.

I literally had to pick up the pieces of this animal. I scratched my head for quite a while trying to decide what one should do.

After crying for a few minutes (Why me, Lord? Why? Why me?), I opted to wear plastic gloves and use some pieces of cardboard to scoop everything up into a carboard box, which I threw deep into the woods.

I wretched, but did not puke. I then had to wash and scrub and bleach my porch. Again, I almost puked. I do not want to mention, but must, the feces and other juices that were left on my porch after my damn cat ripped open the animal's stomach. Where is a man for the gross dirty jobs when you need one?

Damn cat.

*In the last month, my cat has killed and dragged to my doorstep: 2 rabbits, 1 woodpecker. His crimes are becoming more heinous, as the first rabbit was still alive (I took him in to a wildllife rescue shelter--they were unable to save him due to a severed spine). The woodpecker was dead but not mutilated. The third victim, well...you read about it.

The brochure from the wildlife rescue place said that each day, domestic cats kill over 100,000 American songbirds.