Felinus Expirus Maximus

There's a dead cat in our garden. I know it's dead because I compared it to a live cat. A live cat (Fig A), when you poke it with a stick, tends to wiggle and look at you quizzically, as if to say “why are you poking me with a stick?”. A dead one (Fig B) however, doesn't much care.

From the positioning of the body I suspect the neighbouring Tom Cat (who is the current paramour of the wild cat that inhabits our garden) murdered him in a jealous rage and cleverly positioned the body under a fallen coconut tree to stage a suicide attempt. I however, am privy to the fact that the coconut tree fell down the day before the fateful event.

I’m onto you Tom Cat, I gots my eye on you.