One Saturday afternoon as we all sat glued to the TV cartoons sucking up our popcorn there was a knock at the front door, the closest kid managed to drag themselves away to answer it after my mother screamed “If I hear that doorbell one more time, someone dies…answer the door!” (Mom wasn’t one to mince words after the 3rd ring).
Well the door opened and there stood a little old man that lived down the street, “Sorry to bother you, but I think your cat has been hit by a car down on Clifton.” And off he went. Well, the lamentations followed. So Mom said, don’t worry, I’ll go down and find out about it. Where’s that shovel? She was back in about an hour saying yes, it was our cat and it was a little too late. But she’d bought him home and buried him in the back yard. We cried and went right back to Big Chuck and Little John’s Matinee showing of Vincent Price in “House of Usher” . About an hour later here comes knocking at the door another neighborhood buddy Bobby Cooney “Hey Mrs. Spellacy, I just saw your cat down on Clifton..so sorry..no Bob, Mom said, I went down and picked it up an hour ago.
“But this just happened!” Bobby said. So off went Mom again out the front door with the shovel , and back she came again from the back yard an hour later.
That’s it she said.
Our cat is dead and If any cats show up here tonight, they aren’t ours.
Years later I can remember my sister Kate telling me her kids wanted to get a pet. “Fine” , She said “that’s fine”, but they’ll have to be able to fit into a shovel. Wise advice.