The Dead Cat in the Cellar

John  Rogers was just finishing his hot oatmeal with raisins in it

    that reminded him of rabbit turds. "  They have lots of iron in them ",

    his grandmother would point out. The two lived alone in an old house

    in Pawtuxet Village . His mother and father  were on vacation in Egypt.

    His father -a frustrated archaeologist - had always been  fascinated by

    old dead things.

        John had an unusual interest in  flowers, always fascinated by their

    color and variety. He was at age 11 an expert on local wild flowers. His

    science project that semester was an investigation of the flora in the

    wooded area near Fay Field.

          He needed  his allowance that morning in order to buy a new

    magnifying glass at the second hand bookstore near the house, " Twice

    Told Tales ".

          But in order to get it he had to complete  a -for him- most,

    unpleasant chore. There was a dead  cat in the cellar .   Some neighbor,

    Old Jake, had seen it run over by a pick up truck, most likely Mike

    Kelley's, one of the regulars at the Gaspee Lounge.

         The cat had gone down the dark ,dank cold cellar to die.

        Grandmother handed him a plastic green garbage bag and reminded

    him it was getting late for school.

         John dreaded dead things . He was already a near vegetarian. But

    his hobby -wild flowers -was his passion.

        He went down the creaky old wooden cellar stairs. They must be a

    hundred years old, he reflected. He spotted the cold stiff dead  THING.

     That was the thing about DEATH - transformation into a loathsome dead

    THING. But if he did not get the  dead cat out of there, the rats would

    get to it, leaving behind a more gruesome mess.

         He located a shovel and  dumped the dead thing into the open garbage

    bag. He walked up the stairs in shuddering horror. He felt the dead cat

    scratch him through the bag and worried about an infection.

        Outside he tossed the green bag with the horrid contents into

    a small dumpster. He had EARNED his allowance.

       That morning in the English class he was assigned this topic to

    write on: "  Household Chores I Hate To Do ".

        Johnny wrote about washing dishes. He wanted to forget this morning.

     After school he would again be happy in the company of his beautiful

    wild flowers.