[ WP ] A Zombie outbreak occurs and only affects cats . A plague of zombie cats roams the world .

'Goddamnit Darlene, I do n't trust nothin' that shits in a box in the corner. I like dogs. Dogs shit outside. Dogs do n't climb up on the counters gettin' fur everywhere. Dogs do n't bitch about pettin' their bellies then scratch the shit outta you when you've been pettin''em too long. Shit, how the fuck am *I* supposed to know when to stop pettin' the damn thing? Tell me how am I supposed to know that, other than gettin' my damn hand all clawed up?' 
 
 Danny did n't understand. He was a good man, but he never understood her cats. He was always on the road, hauling this or that to here or there, and he did n't know what it was like to be lonely. He always said the radio and the breeze were enough company for him, and Darlene knew he meant it. Still, it did n't keep him from coming by whenever he was in town. It might not look like love, but whatever they had was good enough for them, and that was they way they liked it. Still, Darlene was always the homebody, and she liked her company with claws, fur, and cuddle, at least when Danny was n't around, which seemed like more often than not, these past six months. 
 
'But that's beside the point, darlin'. Be reasonable. This apartment's just too damn small for all these cats. I thought we talked about this. Remember six years ago when the city had to come and put all them cats in boxes and you cried for six weeks listening to the damn Toby Keith album? Last time I were here you had two. Mr. Sniffles and... and...' 
 
'Winston Churchill.' 
 
'Yeah, Mr. Sniffles and Winston Churchill. What the hell happened?' 
 
'You know I do n't believe in neutering. It's cruel. I read a study in Cat Fancy the other day that said neutering is just as traumatic as declawing, if not more. How was I supposed to know Winston Churchill was female? I found her in the park. She was so sad, you remember I told you about it. It was raining and I was on my way back from the store and she was just sitting there under the bench and --' 
 
'Do n't start with the Cat Fancy, Darlene, please. Just do not fuckin' start with the god damn Cat Fancy tonight, I just can not take it. Please, I'm askin' you.' 
 
'Well you asked!' 
 
'Jesus.' 
 
 Mr. Sniffles looked up from his dinner just long enough to hiss threateningly. His right eye hung from his skull by a grey cord, and it bounced slightly as the cat bared its black teeth. Most of his fur was gone, and his tattered belly dragged on the floor as he shuffled, leaving a trail of thick black liquid in its wake. 
 
 Winston Churchill was dinner. Mr. Sniffles had managed to fight his thirteen children for sole ownership of their mother's carcass. Their unhappy progeny were currently situated about the room, in various states of agitation and decay. 
 
'I mean, *Jesus*, Darlene.' 
 
'You just have n't seen them in a while, Danny. You remember how well you all got along last time? Here, I'll get the laser pointer. Remember how much fun you had watching Mr. Sniffles and Winston Churchill chasing it around the kitchen? You had four beers and said it was the most fun you had all week, remember? Here, look, see? It's even more fun now with all the others! Look how much fun they're having!' 
 
 At least ten cats dove for the red dot simultaneously. A chunk of grey flesh jostled loose from its owner and hit the wall to the left of Danny's head with a wet slap, slowly sliding down to the red-tinged floor. 
 
'I mean *Jesus*.'
