Death of a Cat

"You've got friends, you've got beer."
--some commercial on tv that i caught one sentence of...pretty profound though

We never treated her poorly. Not recently anyways. I can't be held responsible for my preteen self. He always was more violent, renowned for leaving bite marks on his siter's arm. Perhaps he did likewise on her paw. Mom had just bought a brand new case of Friskie's canned cat food. When we told her the news, she promptly placed it in the back of her SUV. "Well i guess that can go back to Sam's then."
"Mom, we still have another cat."
"Yeah, but nobody really likes that one, it's retarded. When your dad leaves, i'm not feeding it."
"That's thoughtful."
Dad thinks it was a bobcat. i suppose it would have to be a cannibalistic one. i mean housecats are in the same order as the bobcat. Evidence of the attack was found the next morning, an overturned cardboard box.
"It was really windy last night dad, it could have been anything."
"No, definitely not anything. Probably a bobcat, possibly a coyote, but i dont see him getting through the kitty door."
"Well are you at least going to check the humane society?"
"As far as i know, bobcats don't take their prey to the humane society."

As you can see, for some uknown reason, dad is attached to the bobcat theory like Linus to his blanket, it gets kind of annoying sometimes, like when he talks to our roof-dwelling cat about it.
"You saw it happen didn't you? Luckily, bobcats dont climb onto roofs. But i know you've been actin' weird since Abby disappeared. Like someone who witnessed a murder, and you did, oooooh yeah you did. Might have to keep you inside for a while, make sure its safe. That bobcat might come back, clean up his trail."

Poor Scuba just stares at him and drools, like her retarded self should. I hope to find her a mate, one that can deal with the mentally challenged roof-dwellers. Until then, may peace rest upon the soul of my deceased feline, Abby (1992-2004).