Puppies, kittens, and winter sunbright.

It was a bright, cheerless, December morning. Languid winter sunlight blazed coldly through the leafless branches. Richard trudged quickly through the watery blanket of dirty grey slush that lay on the ground, trudged bitterly towards his job at the ice-cream factory.

By some unhappy, wet, crunchy, chance, Richard stepped on a kitten.

There was a small, unhappy, wet, crunchy, squeak as Richard's heavy boot instantly and rather impolitely removed a dimension from the kitten's originally three dimensional existence.

The dimension in question had just finished moving in properly, it had finally gotten used to all the whiskers and the licking and the peeing in the sand. It was peeved, to say the least; at being evicted at such short notice, and so, made its displeasure known by very rudely smearing the offending boot with an unpleasant mess of it's previous owner's bladder, partially-digested catfood, and various other (thankfully unidentifiable) soggy, fleshy, bits.

The kitten, regrettably, was unavailable for comment at the time.

Richard, however, gave us a vivid, if slightly inaccurate account of events :
"ARRGGGHHHHsonofabitch-geddidoff-geddidoff-GEDDIDOFF!"

which, translated into a less offensive form, would read

"ARRGGGHHHHpuppy-geddidoff-geddidoff-GEDDIDOFF!"

Which brings me to the point of this bloody(hehh.geddit?blood -- erh.. nevermind) depressing post :
I would invite you all to gaze with me into the dissolving shadows of ages Past... and marvel, marvel at the glorious stupidity of that first individual whose bright idea it was to invent that
soul-crushing remark.

"That's right, you heard me, you puppy"