Betty died through the night.
Up to her very last year she lived alone despite twenty years since her husband passed away on the golf course as a result of unforeseen circumstances - he was hit by a golf ball on the back of his head. The golfer never shouted fore. He never regained consciousness.
So Betty had twenty years of bliss when she could eat when she was hungry, drink when she was dry sleep when she wanted. No more male domineerance for her. Only that she was content living with her cats in the Isle of Man, as though they were her sons & daughters which she never had. She was rich and she indulged in comforting her cats to their every whim.
This then brought up the dilemma - who had she left her will to? Her cats, well, could look after themselves, or so it was thought. Her cats varied from colour to size in as many different proportions with varied independence. At her last count she had seven. Five she had named: Timmy the old male; Tiger the younger male; Rory an older female and Betty's favourite; Patch a young female and Spunk the youngest of these five. As for the other two Betty was that quite a bit older that she didn't have all her marbles together to name the last two and when she made her will she promised Rory the lot.
Betty's relatives were as profoundly distorted as she was in her old age when they discovered they were not listed in the will. It was times like these they had wished they could have kept in touch with their spinster sister. They made it widely known over the few days running up to the funeral. Betty's neighbour, Mrs Milton, quickly discovered Betty had died and she mulled over her master plan to remove the plague of cats she had to put up with for several years. Mrs Milton was allergic to cats and jealous of the extreme expenditure Betty indulged on her cats. Mrs Milton now religiously master-minded her revengeful deed.
First there was Timmy - he was getting quite old and some might say he would be happy to pop soon. Mrs Milton purrs at her, 'Timmy, Timmy, Timmy here's a bowl of milk for you'. Timmy obliged and that was so quick to knock off what Mrs Milton obviously thought was vermon. Next on her list was Tiger. He was a little more cautious when it came to the noose, and it took Mrs Milton a little more endeavour to pull the noose tight. She eventually made it, although Tiger went out with a fight.
Legend has it that when filling the Ark and the rains came down Noah closed the door and caught the tail of a cat. Therefore, the tail-less cats. Another story goes that mother cats bit off the tails of their kittens to keep them from being snatched by the invading Scandinavians who cut off the tails and used them for decorating their helmets.
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