When I married my husband, he was not like this—he was not mad. The man I married was tender at heart and was particularly fond of animals. When he was a child, he was pampered with many different pets, and was at his happiest when feeding and taking care of them. However, his affection for animals grew as he got older and I noticed it. We acquired birds, gold fish, a nice dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat named Pluto.
Pluto was a beautiful, large, black cat and was my husband’s favorite pet and playmate. He would follow his only caretaker around the house and would even follow him out into the streets if he was allowed. Their friendship had last a few years, until he unfortunately became an alcoholic. Day by day, he grew more moody, irritable, and more regardless of others feelings. He began using vulgar language towards me and even started mistreating me. He even neglected his beloved pets when they got in his way. Pluto, however, was an exception because my husband tried his best to restrain himself from ill-treating him. Nevertheless, eventually poor Pluto also began to feel his wrath.
In the middle of one night, I had awoken and made my way out of our bedroom after noticing that my husband was still not home. I looked out the front window and saw him walking unsteadily in the direction of the house and our black cat making his way towards the drunken man. Suddenly, I witnessed him violently snatching Pluto and the frightened cat accidently biting his hand. In horror, I watched as my once-loving husband became possessed by anger. With malice showing in his eyes, he grabbed the unfortunate pet by the throat and pulled out his pocket knife. My hand rose to my mouth in fear and I gasped as the ill-fated cat had one of his eyes cut from his socket. With tears threatening to spill down my face, I hurriedly made my way back to the bedroom and feigned sleep. The last thing I wanted was to experience the other side of my husband’s rage. My thoughts...
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