I met Boon at his place Saturday night to go out for a cycling trip. The guy popped out from his gate with his bike quietly.. and some plastic bags.

"Bro what you doing with those things?"

Before my mind could think up some crude masturbation-related pun - he pedaled off already, I followed.

"Here's the prob."

We got off and stared at this spot on the pedestrian walkway. A dead kitten on its side. We stared hard for some time.

"... FUCK." I finally managed to utter.

Anger and bile welled up from somewhere deep inside as I averted my eyes away from the scene for a moment, rattling off an additional chain of expletives under my breath. The realities of existence, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Give me those plastic bags. What the- you only brought two?"

A critical assessment of the situation. A deep breath. Hesitation. Bent down, grabbed the carcass by the legs, lifted it up and SHIT!

I thought the creature had expired from hunger or something but the side of its head that faced the ground was smashed in, a dried pool of red and whatintheworldisTHAT marking the site. Hastily threw the heap into the tall grass nearby consecrating it to a natural cycle of decomposition undisturbed.

Got rid of the plastic bag glove things and I still felt wisps of Death clinging on to me. I spat.

The strangest thing about the whole thing was how seemingly the entire cat population in the surrounding vicinity gathered to observe. Most of them stood a polite distance away, looking on concerned every now and then. A brave one would creep up occasionally to the carcass, and paw the thing a bit, almost like saying "Wake up! Stop sleeping!"

I could imagine a parallel human situation. A bunch of friends walking down town, crossing the road, a sudden blur of a car from nowhere and one of the guys is hit! Flies away abit, rag doll body reembracing the front boot again and dragged along under the asphalt. Halt. Silence. He is no more.

"Eddie. Eddie are you ok?!"

As Boon aphoristically phrased it, the being becomes an object. Just like that, surreal. A lone cat walked away from the group right up to my feet, its head tilted up to look at me, big eyes full of questions.

What do I say? How do I say? Do I speak and God translates? Do I mew? Or purr? Shall I say words of wisdom, or comfort? Or tidings of hope and sympathy? Something?

This whole thing is horrible. I stomped my feet hard and scattered all the kitties; show's over, cat funeral ended. Go home.

"Dammit. Let's go."