How To Dig A Grave


The grave is for my cat, Killer. A real tomcat, with orangy spots all over his stout, strong 5kg body. Handsome boy.

You see, within a space of 2 weeks, 2 of my cats died. And today, just as I was about to lock the gate to the house I saw a cat lying in the middle of the road infront of our house. No mistake. It was Killer. Someone knocked him down. And there was so much blood. I broke down in the middle of the road oblivious to the traffic.

2 years ago, Killer was born to Tres, the tri-coloured pretty looking feline I had ever seen. Initially Killer was not named Killer. He had no name. He was fat, and fluffy, and playful. When he got bigger, about 6 months, he got naughtier. And that was when the nightmare started. At least for any newborn kittens in the house. Killer loves eating newborn kittens. Which brought our household into a state of anxiety everytime theres a pregnant mama cat in the house. We would keep the mama cat in a cage, inside a room. Away from him.

But sometimes Killer would managed to sneak in and eat the kittens. Thus his name.

As brutal as he may sounded, he was a loving cat to other cats in the house. Just not with the kittens. Maybe he felt territorial, I dont know.

We moved in into our current house early last year. Killer didnt want to be kept at home but preferred to roam around, hanging out at the housing estate, checking out other female felines who happened to be just behind the house, and would come back home for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Almost always on cue, he would perched just outside the cat house where we keep the rest of the cats, and waiting for his meals. On good days when his mood is a bit mellow, he would allow me to touch him and scratch his ears.

Well, I digged him a nice, comfortable grave in the garden at the back of the house. It measured about 3 ft x 3 ft, and deep enough so the rest of the cats would not dig into. I curled him into his favourite position, though the rigor mortis had set in and was a bit difficult. I stroked his chin, his body, his long tail. As if the other cats in the cat house knew what was going on and as if they also wanted to say goodbye, they lined up by the cat house. All 10 of them. Staring intently. As if saying goodby telephatically. Slowly I lowered him down. He looked as if he was sleeping if not for his smashed skull. I looked at my hands. I had blood stains on them. Even on my t shirt. I remembered I craddled him on the road. Dexter the white cat was next to me. Sniffing Killer’s body quietly and meowing in his soft voice as if asking me about him. Bits of earth were gathered around his body now. I slowly covered his lower body, then going up to cover the rest of him, and offering a silent prayer to my Killer.

May you have a great time playing catch in Cat Heaven, my Killer.

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One Reply to “How To Dig A Grave”

  1. Sorry to read about your loss.

    A year ago I started a blog to express my love for my pet that I had loss, and invited people to share in their love for their pets (dead or alive). Check it out, and if you’d be interested in writing something about your furry friend, just send me a text with a picture, and I will showcase it on my blog “Love is a Four-Legged Word”
    (http://fourleggedlove.wordpress.com)

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