Corpus Delicious

Catibalism

Will Your Cat Eat Your Corpse? That headline from Wired got my attention and the answer isn’t reassuring either.

Given the right circumstances; 1) you’re dead, 2) your cat is starving, 3) your dead body and starving cat are all alone with no way out for kitty, yeah, you’re on the menu.

The findings come from a 2019 research paper that appeared in Pub Med.gov. Corpses were deliberately left outside to study how bodies decompose. Some feral cats breached the security where the investigation was taking place and a new discovery occurred. The cats were scavenging off the dearly departed.

Though this finding was with feral cats, domestic felines have also been observed feasting on dead humans.

Now when you look at your cat, you’ll have the same perspective as a mouse.

But sometimes, chowing down on your former owner isn’t the best idea for cats.

If you should die with a high level of drugs (legal or illegal), your cat is most likely going to join you in the hereafter. That’s because your body passes on the narcotics to the cat, poisoning it.

How much interest is there in this topic? A Google search for “will your pet eat you when you die” returned over one billion hits.

If you wind up in this situation, be considerate towards your pet and always have some fresh herbs on you. Cats love mint, basil, rosemary, thyme, parsley, dill and of course, catnip. Do that and you’ll go down a lot easier for them when they’re munching on your corpse.

Of course, I didn’t want our pet, Chester, to know about this ghoulish trend in cat dinning. But as I was reading what felines might like to have along with their pound of human flesh, ‘Cat Ears’ heard the word “catnip.”

“I love catnip,” Chester said. I’m I getting some now?”

“No,” I said briskly. I was just reading about something and the word catnip was in it.”

“What story,” our curious cat asked.

“Something about the eating habits of a few cats under certain circumstances,” I said coyly.

“Let me see,” Chester said excitedly.

I assumed he thought that whatever was written, it was going to be his gateway to some catnip. He was in for a surprise as he moved me away from the computer so he could see the screen.

“Son of a cat,” Chester yelled, recoiling from the computer. “This is a joke, right?”

“Apparently not,” I said.

“I didn’t know people got eaten by anything,” Chester said, apprehensively. “I thought you humans were untouchable at the top of the food chain.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not true,” I said softly as I started to worry if Chester was going to have an epiphany and hire a hitman to quicken the experience of chewing on my body.

“I couldn’t eat a human,” Chester said. “But there are a few I’d like to see disappear.”

“What do you mean by disappear,” I asked with trepidation.

“You know, like hiring a hitman to bump off a few idiot people,” Chester said sinisterly.

My heart sank. A crazy story about cats eating their owners was going to lead to my demise. Thank you, internet.

“Why do you look so pale,” Chester asked with a sense of sympathy. “I hope you didn’t think I was referring to you and the rest of the people who live here.”

“Of course not,” I countered in a loud voice. But inside I felt nauseated. I didn’t want to be charged with aiding and abetting a homicide or two, or my own.

Seems that Chester is a more scary cat than scaredy cat after all. He has ties to organized crime for goodness’ sake. Shouldn’t really be a surprise; he spent eight months in prison so you figure he made a few below board connections.

Now my mind flashes forward. Chester is convicted of several killings and is sentenced to die in the electric cat chair. The guards ask him what he wants for his last meal and he says, “my owners.”

My God, we’ve adopted Jeffrey Dahmer into our home!

“You’re telling me that if you were in the situation of being locked in a room with a corpse, you wouldn’t have a bite,” I asked, not believing what Chester said.

“I wouldn’t be in that situation,” Chester said smugly.

“That’s because I have stashes of kibble tucked away all over this house. You die, no problem. I’ve got supplies to last me months, but it would never go that long. No way I’m using the litter box if someone, not me, doesn’t clean it every day. I’ll just call the police for help. Not my problem other cats didn’t learn that life skill.”

“Not even if you could sprinkle some catnip on one of us,” I asked.

“I forgot about that,” Chester retorted. “I might have a nibble just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Good to know,” I quickly replied. “I’m removing any catnip we have in the house.”

“Don’t forget, I have the prowess to use the phone or computer to order more,” Chester said proudly.

“Ok, but you need a credit card to buy the stuff,” I said, thinking I had ended the conversation.

“That’s correct,” Chester said. “Have you checked your wallet lately?”