Poor kitty was coughing up blood. I think he eventually had a heart attack. Maybe he ate something poisonous or inhaled a piece of bone? I watched him die, and I was the only one. It was personal.
Even after he was dead, I kept on petting him and moved him into a better position. It was terrible when I helped put him in a trash bag. It looked like he was just taking a nap. I felt like an accomplice to murder.
And yet while I was sitting there comforting this poor dead cat, helping to bury this lost life, all I could think about how friggin' cool it would be to dissect it.
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You are just a dreamer, And I am just a dream
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Sustainer
Okay, at first I thought I clicked on the post above this in fresh topics. 
