Occasionally, the girls like to go out to spend some time at Leo's grave. He's buried out beside the garage under a tree next to our other cat. Today, we noticed a major dip in the dirt around the grave. My first thought was that some animal had tried to get to him. The grave is fairly fresh...three weeks. Also, we've had a lot of hard rain for two days. Bottom line, you could see the box he's inside.
Macabre, to say the very least. I simply cannot deal with a dug up cat corpse.
After shooing away the girls, Chad threw some more dirt on the grave. For good measure, he covered the area in stones and flat rocks. After all was well, they came to visit and literally were jumping from stone to stone. This irked me.
Attempting to capitalize on this teachable moment, I say, "Girls, stop that. It's disrespectful to walk on people's graves."
Belle replies, "It's not a people. It's just an ole' kitty cat."
I look to Chad for support. He simply snickers and walks away.
And this philosophy is why the poor bastard writhed in pain for four hours while we were at a party (I may have failed to mention this information on my other post in an effort to shed a better light on myself. Or to feel less guilty. One of the two. Or both.)
Ten points if you caught the tagline reference of the title.
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