Updated with crime notes below:
Lordy knows I'm not a cat person. At all. In fact I am borderline hateful of all things feline. I would rather mourn an ant, a spider or even a scorpion than a cat BUT I am in fact human, and after a week of dead cats on our street I am beginning to think I should do something. (The current damage = six dead cats in seven days.)
Our neighborhood is overrun with stray cats, you see. Cats that poop in our teensy-yard (not pleasant), cats that poop in everyone's teensy yards and they seem to have multiplied recently. (I'm guessing in one block we have nearly two dozen strays, not including those who have perished. RIP.)
I'm not sad that they're dead. I'm just a little grossed out. And afraid. For my own animals. No one fucks with my family and someone fucking with the neighborhood cats is getting a little too close to home j'aheard? (I know the sanitation dude by name now. It's Chuck.)
I have become somewhat of a detective and have three such theories of who is responsible for this strange and freaky incident.
1. My neighbor, who is currently a nervous wreck over the whole thing, might just be bluffing -- They are, after all, dying in her front yard, under her car, on the front steps. Her yard is very well-manicured and her entire extended family was up in arms today questioning me among other neighbors. It seems a little fishy, don't you think? Her perfectly manicured yard going to hell and a litterbox?
2. The nudist who lives behind us was a former catlady who's collection got out of control -- She's notorious for picking up the newspaper naked in the mornings and has one of those houses that reeks of patchouli and cheap scented candles (she keeps the doors open for some reason and is easy to spy on.) She has recently gone from cat person to dog person and is perhaps replacing the cats with, well, dead cats. She also lives directly behind the deadzone. Coincidence?
3. I am a witch-- I have said more than once, "Darn cats! Why don't you DIE ALREADY!" Maybe I accidentally killed them with my so-secret-I-don't-know-about-them-powers. Now I will experiment with certain violent thoughts about certain U.S. leaders.
I would have called some sort of authority by now but I have instead decided to solve the murder mystery myself. I have a camo-suit and some black paint. I'm not afraid to sleep-out in Archer's sailboat-sandbox. I also have rigged a motion detective system and a booby trap with a garden hose and two stepping-stones.
Time will tell, people. I will be updating this post with new news as soon as it comes. Viva la Junior Detective-ing!
11:22am Update: Thus far, no cats have been found dead, at least none that I have seen (I have gone on two stealth missions with my associate, Archer. Will be making the rounds again later this afternoon...)
7:03 Update: Today has been a slow day on the case. Archer and I hid out in the backyard for several hours but no suspicious behavior was seen or overheard. Our trusty dog, Watsoncooper didn't smell anything fishy besides Zadie's breath and the street was as quiet as a mouse. In fact, all through the day not a single cat was seen. Perhaps they decided to hide out? Either that or it' is indeed true what Junior Detective CryitOut said about the cat-cult. Why is it that the damn suicidal cults follow me around? (The Heaven's Gate creepy suicide-hale bob mission-thing happened not even a mile from where I grew up.) Regardless, this is my current theory but it could all change by morning. That is... If there IS a morning.
And now I shall smoke my pipe by the fireplace...