dead cats & dog shit mysteries

I have a serious problem: bags of trash appear like wrapped Christmas gifts to me.

Yes, these "gifts" are still full of disgusting trash (for now I can still distinguish between trash and treasure) but as I have previously explained, there is sometimes perfectly edible food inside these wrapped gifts. My curiosity always gets the best of me, and more than shamefully enjoying the fruits of my findings I want to know how correct my intuitions are.

For instance, males of all ages notice some sexy girls, but nobody besides me watches what the sexy girls drop into the public garbage can: a paper bag dripping with grease. (It was full of freshly baked cookies.)

Nobody sees what I see because nobody is looking where I'm looking, or paying attention where I am paying attention. They don't have their third eye open becasue they are afraid of what they will see. They are afraid of the truth.

Gross things happen when you dig through the trash. (It is the price one must pay for free food.) That is part of the fun. I think? (In the least it makes for a blog post.)

Like mistaking a transparent purple bag of dog shit for "raisins" was a funny lesson I only needed to learn once. (I wasn't in the mood for raisins that night.)

As true with all mysteries, the more it disturbs, the deeper it goes. (9/11, the resurrection, the fake and gay pandemic.) Mysteries are everywhere, and trash is just the mystery that shares the streets with us.

On Sunday, walking home from Mass on the busy street, I saw a reusable grocery bag on the street corner, beside a spilled over paper bag of dirty litter and empty cans of cat food.

Feeling lucky after the previous day's cookie find, I lightly tapped the reusable bag with my Allen Edmonds to see what my foot could tell me about its potential for holding freshly baked cookies, and immediately recoiled, shrieking audibly. (In New York, no one can hear you scream.) There was undeniably a furry body in that bag. 

Actaully, two bodies. Two dead bodies. Two dead cats. 

Regaining my masuline resolve and committing to my curiosity, I moved my face closer to the bag for a better look, but, as I was maskless, the wall of odor kept me from investigating the mystery thoroughly, and I could only confirm with my eyes that the fur's sheen was of a dirty cat-like texture and quality. (I did not need to pet them.)

Of course, stray cats are everywhere all the time. A couple of dead ones in a bag on the street, while sad and weird, is less mysterious than a couple of dead dogs on the street. Dogs have monetary value. Dogs can't disappear becasue they cannot take care of themselves like cats can. Besides, the cats were probably killed by a local kid testing the limits of his conscience in a new experiment with pleasure, numb from setting fires. 

'Ohhhh, I get it now,'  I said aloud, the ignored first clue only making sense after the dead cat discovery. I walked away. Dead cats are inedible. 

I'll never know the answers to these mysteries, but if I didn't have that initial curiousity, I'd never know what I don't know.