The dance of death...

My story begins with a craving...a craving for creamy goodness. I had headed home to get a change of clothes for work (and to feed my Critter Cat), and on the way back to JH's I felt the need to hunt down a delicious chocolate eclair. I left my house, heading east down St. Matthew's and, as I pulled up the intersection, I noticed a cat spazzing out on Sherbrook near the curb (in front of the church). It was the kind of "freaking out" a cat does when it has something stuck to it...like a piece of tape on it's tail, a string tied to it's paw...or a nice, juicy dingleberry on it's bum-fur. I turned the corner onto Sherbook and immediately stopped my car to look. By this time, the cat had stopped doing it's thing and was laying still on the road. I waited for the little bit of traffic to pass, and then I put my car in reverse and backed up towards the cat. By this time, a bus was making it's way down the street, so I knew I didn't have much time. However, when I got out to take a closer look, I knew that time was no longer an issue; the cat was twisted and mangled and laying in a pool of blood. I had nothing with me to clean up the mess, and with the bus only a few feet away, I got in my car and began to drive off. Sadly, I think the bus may have extinguished any further spark of life as it ran over the pile that was once a beautiful brindle-coloured kitty.

Last night, I watched that cat do it's dance of death. With death being the inevitable, I wonder what my dance will look like?

Needless to say, I did NOT get an eclair.