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Raven, Nevermore -- Writer's Poke #165

For Writers:

Think animals don't commit suicide? Our cat Raven did.

Granted, Raven was a weird cat. She had lived with us for a year, but she still didn't trust us enough to be touched. Only recently had she decided that she could be safe in the same room with us. At a distance, of course.

And she had never been outside. Then one summer day, we were fumigating the house. We caught Raven and Flem and put them in their cat carriers. We took them outside, and to kill time, we started washing our cars.

Neither Raven nor Flem enjoyed being locked up, so we decided to release them. Flem stayed close by and basked in the sun. Meanwhile, Raven made an escape for the woods behind our backyard. These woods were heavily overgrown, and a house cat like Raven had no business in them.

We finished washing the cars, and we called out to her to let her know it was time to go back inside. We could hear her return "meow," but we never saw her again. Linda spent the better part of the evening going through the underbrush, but Raven stayed just out of sight, coyly meowing as though playing a game.

The next morning, we called for her again, but there were no return meows. In the cat department, we were down to just Flem.

Explore the death of a pet. How did this affect you?

"A cat determined not to be found can fold itself up like a pocket handkerchief if it wants to." -- Louis Camuti

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