I locked my cat underneath the house in the crawl space and he died. I am devastated. I feel empty, hollow. I'd had him for 13 years, and he was the best cat in the world. And I killed him. He was missing, and the crawl space door was open. I called and called, and checked with a flashlight, and saw no sight or sound of him. I couldn't see all the way to the far side of the crawl space. I didn't go in and check it all out. I don't know why I didn't. I closed the door. I checked back the next day, just in case, but again there was no answer, and I didn't go in. I closed the door.
That was two weeks ago. He died under there. There has been a faint smell of garbage the last couple of days that won't go away when I took out the trash, and after I got home from dancing tonight, it hit me. I knew the smell had to be him, under the house.
I went under with a flashlight and some garbage bags, heavy gloves. I didn't want to leave him there.
It was him. He died. He had pulled down the insulation. He was trapped. I closed the door and locked him in and he died under there, of cold, starvation, and thirst. I killed him, and it was solw and horrible. He could hear me up in the house, ignoring him as he died.
This is the worst I have ever [censored] up. And my cat died from it. He was so good. He used to come sit on my chest and night and purr. He slept on the pillow next to me. He was here, and then I killed him because I was too lazy to crawl under the house.
I'm sorry Dan. I'm so sorry.
