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Oh dear God!  You’ve got to believe me.  It isn’t me.  I know it sounds crazy, but it was Whiskers.  I swear to God.  I didn’t put it together at first.  But now I know.  Oh, God, I know.  It all started right after we had him neutered.  I can’t blame him.  Hell, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as an Eastern, Three-toed Sand Lizard.  Much less that it was endangered.  But it shows up on my doorstep half-dead.  I didn’t know how it got there...then.  But I wasn’t going to let it suffer.  Oh yeah.  Then the Conservation Agent shows up.  Try talkin’ your way outta that one.


And then the deer.  Not the little ones.  Ones with antlers.  Big son of a bitches.  Plural.  There must’ve been 5 or 6, all within a week.  All dead.  All on my doorstep.  And all out of season.  Hell!  I don’t know how.  We’re talkin’ a 7 pound cat.  Physics won’t even allow that.  But he did it.  I know he did it.  Just because I don’t know how doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.


I had to start burying them.  Dumping them in the country.  Anything to get rid of them.  Nobody would believe that Whiskers had done it.  Are you kiddin’?  I mean, look at you.  You don’t believe me.    But I didn’t want to go to jail.


I didn’t even know there were Elk around here.  And apparently there isn’t.  I don’t know where he got it.  Hell, I’m not sure I even knew what an Elk was.  But he gets one.  And he’s sittin’ there doin’ his bath.  Purring.  And he looks at me.  And he winks.  I swear to God, he winks!


And then he found the Bald Eagle.  Where in hell did he find a Bald Eagle?  How in the hell does a 7 pound cat kill a Bald Eagle?


Look.  I know you’re not going to believe me.  I know you’re going to send me to jail.  Just do me a favor.  Just one favor.  Tell Whiskers that I’m sorry.  Truly sorry.  But don’t tell him where I am.