Hindsight Is 20/20

I was really sad when my kitty passed, just heartbroken. I missed her so much that, when I hear / heard about the burial ground up the road, the one with the power to bring back the dead, I thought this might be the solution I was looking for. Even though the old man with the deep voice and thick accent told myself / me only evil comes from that burial ground, I figured he was probably just exaggerating. “What harm could really come of giving this a try?” I thought to myself.

I should of / have listened to the old man with the deep voice and thick accent, but hindsight is better than foresight. I took my kitty to the burial ground and buried her there. Nothing happened immediately. I have to admit that I was both disappointed and a little relieved, so / or, slowly and sadly, I walked down the dirt road toward home.

The next day, I heard a scratching at my door. It was my kitty! I said “I am so happy to see you,” and I tried to hug her / herself. She just glares / glared at me. Then, she lunged at me and bit my arm. “Ouch! That hurts, kitty!” I began to wonder if the old man’s warning had been dead on, for / but, I didn’t have a choice. I let my kitty into the house and spent the whole rest of the day hiding from her. When it was time for bed, I don’t have to tell you how worried I was. I don’t think I slept very much. One time, I woke up after accidentally dozing off to find my kitty sitting at the foot of the bed staring at me / myself.

To make matters worse, the neighbor heard about my little zombie kitty and wanted to know my secret. She wanted to bring her dog back to life. “Your dog has been dead a year!” I exclaimed; however, she did not listens / listen to me. The next day, I saw her poor dog running up the road toward her house. It was not a pretty sight.

Soon, the neighborhood was full of zombie pets—zombie cats and zombie dogs. I even see / saw a zombie bunny. The old man with the deep voice called a neighborhood association meeting to order, but before he could finish reprimanding us, my kitty attacked him / himself. “Bad kitty!” I yelled.

Thankfully, this act of kitty violence made everyone realize the danger of the cemetery, yet / so, no one makes zombie pets anymore. Unfortunately, we is / are stuck with the ones we had already created. I don’t think anyone in our neighborhood sleep / sleeps very well. I know I have not slept in weeks. The next time an old man with a deep voice and thick accent gives me a warning about creating zombie pets, I am going to listen.