The thing is, it was pitch black. I couldn't

The thing is, it was pitch black. I couldn't see anything, except her eyes. I could see her eyes, shining like an ax's blade. They almost rang. But there was no light, so how

could I possibly get my cat without bumping into all this clutter? Sure enough, as I began to walk through the dark basement, I tripped over a large book. I then saw the book had

..aw my dog mount the recently deceased cat. He was always humping her in life and we would all laugh but this was just sick. I stayed and watched until I was finished. Suddenly a

thought crossed my mind. Is it bestiality if one partner is dead? Or would that be necrozoophilia? Had my cat consented when it said 'Meow'? Was a dog stuffing a stuffed cat 'taxi

zoology?' And another thing, how consummate are interspecies relationships? One night with my cat and the dog ties the knot? Hey-o!" Offended, Johnny Knoxville's pets left his

care and went searching for a new home. The pets traveled to the next city (by hitching of course). Fluffy Sally smoothed talked her way into the home of a 67 yr old artist who

had convinced himself that self immolation could pass as performance art. Fluffy Sally lapped at her milk bowl and wondered if her fur was flammable

. Sarcastically, he lit the match. the closer the flame came to his gasoline-soaked clothing, the more snide his comments became. At that sparking instant, he saw irony for what it

was when a draft suddenly swept through and huffed out the flame. "Harold? HAROLD?!" his mother's screeching voice pierced his daydream."Are you playing with matches again?"