The Black Cat

As a child I stuffed the cat under my pillow and half-heartedly tried to suffocate it, not necessarily trying to kill it, but to make myself feel bad without really knowing why, or maybe just for the perverse destructive experience?

I loved the cat even more after the remorse of my bedroom-riddled boredom-addled cruelty, but the cat kept an almost imperceptibly wider distance than it did before that disappointed me.

Drunkenness is the excuse for this unspeakable behavior in The Black Cat.

I also like to get drunk from time to time but never mistreat animals, ever, nor would it occur to me!

On the other hand, maybe it's something about cats in general, especially black ones? Two of mine have been poisoned by neighbours! I ran over one in my car many moons ago, squeezing its guts, we all cried and cried and cried when it succumbed to anaesthetic because it was too young to take the dose and it still hurts to this day, and I unwittingly killed another cat by applying too much spray poison to its infested mange after rescuing it on its last legs from the street.

Living in Brazil, I haven't had much luck with cats and my favourite of all, Hickmann, named after the Brazilian supermodel, used to wear my hair in bed as a fluffy blanket until the wife returned the living toupee to the floor. I wept buckets over this one too.

No more cats for me!

I can't take it.

It serves you right EAP for getting plastered and being less than gracious to your furry friend.

My excuse was being a kid followed by general incompetence.