Second Fiction Segment.
There was a cat that died the other day, and I got to thinking...are there more cats than humans? If there are, do they die more often since they have shorter life spans. So why should I care so much about this one dying, isn't that just a flaw in my perspective?
Three cats have probably died while I thought that. it's a sad, dark, truth. And yet I'm still crying over this one cat! How dare I? It's just a cat, it didn't really do anything unless I projected what I wanted it's actions to mean on to it.
It was a thing. It sat around, it drank water, it ate food, it lazed around and whined. A lot.
God dammit. I know why I'm upset.
I'm a fucking cat.