On the first day, the cat brought me a mouse and laid it on my doorstep, teeth marks oozing through its dust-gray fur.
On the second day, the cat brought me a red-breasted robin and left it on my kitchen table, blood-splattered and broken-winged next to my banana nut muffin.
On the third day, the cat brought me a rabbit and dropped it at my feet while I brushed my teeth, its innards oozing like cranberry sauce through a gash in its belly.
Today, I woke up to the sound of a newborn baby crying.
I don’t have a baby.