This is an old story but even though at the time it was fucking horrible and beyond traumatizing it’s become a family favorite to tell around the Thanksgiving dinner table.
I was living at my mom’s house at the time and it was a regular weekday morning. Woke up, got ready for work, and went out the front door. As I’m walking with my keys in hand I notice an odd shape in the grass under the tree, a small object barely peaking up from the ground. On my slow walk towards it to investigate, my brain went through the different possibilities of what it could possibly be…. “Maybe it’s a rock, or just a fallen leaf, maybe a pile of dog shit….that strangely resembles orange cat ears? well that’s kind of weird but….OH MY GAHD, IT’S A FUCKING CAT FACE”
No joke, literally a FACE, that’s it, just the head of a cat sitting in the grass staring up at me with sad, motionless eyes. I walked around in circles with my flappy hands muttering all sorts of obscenities but mostly just angrily pointing at it and saying to myself, “THAT, is a fucking FACE……a cat FACE, in my yard!”. I looked at the time and thought “I don’t have time for THIS”, and also “WHO FUCKING PUT THIS HERE??”. As I search around for whatever god awful person or thing would leave this poor cat head in my yard I begin to panic. “Do I call my work and tell them I will be late due to feline decapitation? How do I get this thing out of my yard??? I can’t just leave it here it will give my mom a heart attack.”
I run next door to my neighbor’s house in hope that he may be home, and he could help me clean up Tom’s head from my yard. (I felt like he needed a name, since he really didn’t have much else). No one answered the door. I walked back to where Tom’s head was and stared down at him yelling that he’s making me late for work and should be ashamed for getting himself in this position. I went around the back of the house and got a shovel and stood in front of Tom really not looking forward to what I had to do….
I first poked it with the shovel, because… you know, he could be sleeping?No movement. I placed the shovel below Tom’s whiskers turned my face and shoved it hard. I looked back and realized I just rolled his head over and could now see Tom’s insides. Not cool, Tom. I did this another five times rolling his head further and further down the yard until I finally got him on the shovel. My morbid curiosity lifted it up to eye level so I could inspect it further. Then I realized I should probably hurry up and get rid of it because someone could be watching and this probably looks pretty fucking strange. So, I said a little prayer for poor Tom and shed a tear as I dumped his head into the trashcan, where it landed next to the pile of recently picked up dog poop.
I hope Tom’s life was better than his death.