I adore how 'Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?' tackles morbid curiosity with humor and science—perfect for kids who ask weird questions! Caitlin Doughty, a mortician, writes like your cool aunt who isn’t scared of skeletons. She explains decomposition by comparing it to a banana rotting (but way slower), and yes, she confirms pets might nibble you postmortem—but gently, like they’re tidying up. It’s not gruesome; it’s biology with giggles. The book’s strength? Normalizing death as part of life. Kids learn bodies break down like fallen leaves, returning nutrients to the earth. My niece read it and now calls graveyards 'people gardens.'
Doughty avoids sugarcoating but keeps it age-appropriate. When discussing cremation, she describes it as 'a warm hug from the inside'—poetic yet factual. The cat question? She reassures kids it’s rare and frames it as animals being confused, not malicious. What stuck with me was her emphasis on cultural rituals worldwide, like Tibetan sky burials. It turns morbid fear into fascination. After reading, my little cousin drew a 'compost me' poster for her future—darkly hilarious but also weirdly wholesome.
'Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?' became my go-to gift after my godson asked if he’d melt like a popsicle in a coffin. Doughty’s genius lies in metaphors kids grasp instantly. Explaining bloating? 'Like a balloon animal left in the sun.' She addresses cultural taboos too—some families bury loved ones in biodegradable pods that grow into trees. The cat question gets two pages of hilarious yet scientific analysis: feline instincts versus loyalty, complete with historical anecdotes (medieval cats were opportunistic). My favorite chapter covers 'mummification mishaps,' where she describes failed DIY embalming as 'the original bad science fair project.' Kids learn that death isn’t failure; it’s physics. After reading, my neighbor’s kid started composting kitchen scraps 'to practice for eternity.' Morbid? Maybe. Healthy? Absolutely.
Doughty’s book turns death into a quirky science lesson. She answers the titular question with a shrug: 'Probably not, but here’s why it’s possible.' Kids learn that pets act on instinct, not revenge. The tone is playful—comparing graves to 'underground sleeping bags'—but never disrespectful. When my little brother read it, he announced he wants a Viking funeral (we settled on a biodegradable urn). The book’s real magic? It replaces fear with curiosity. Even cremation becomes a story of transformation, like a phoenix but with more ashes.
This book is a lifesaver for parents dodging existential dread at bedtime! Doughty’s approach feels like chatting with a science teacher who moonlights as a stand-up comedian. She explains rigor mortis by comparing stiff muscles to leftoverHalloween candy—hard at first, then gooey. For kids scared of ghosts, she points out that decomposing bodies lack the energy to haunt, quipping, 'You’re more likely to be bothered by a live pigeon.' The cat bit? She balances honesty with comfort: 'Fluffy prefers your tuna sandwich, but yes, hunger wins eventually.' What I love is her refusal to demonize natural processes. Even embalming gets demystified—it’s just 'preserving you like a pickle.' My students once role-played as decomposers after reading this; they now debate whether fungi or beetles are cooler. Death education shouldn’t be sterile, and Doughty proves it.
2025-12-20 17:54:05
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The Whole Family’s Regret After I Died
Alyssa J
8
23.2K
The night I died, my whole family was busy celebrating my twin sister Elena's eighteenth birthday.
Everyone thought Elena was going to die the next day.
We're elves. My father worked as a clan guardian, and after Mom gave birth to Elena and me as twins, she stopped working altogether.
We should have been a happy family. But from the moment we were born, Elena and I were bound by a witch's curse.
Because Elena came into the world one minute before me, she took the full weight of it onto herself. She was never supposed to live past eighteen.
From the day we were born, Elena was the family's treasure. Mom and Dad treated me like I owed her something.
New toys went to her first. New dresses were always her pick. Every night, Mom would sit in Elena's room for at least an hour before she'd turn off the light. I always fell asleep alone.
One night I had a nightmare and ran barefoot to find Mom. She was holding Elena and didn't even look up. "Go back to bed. Stop making a fuss."
I kept telling myself: she's dying, of course they're kind to her. But every time I let something go, that splinter in my chest pushed a little deeper.
Then the day the curse was supposed to take effect finally came, and naturally, that was the day my stomach cramped so badly I could barely stand.
Mom and Dad didn't hesitate. They shoved me into the cellar and locked it from outside.
I crouched on the stone floor with the smell of mildew everywhere and knocked on the door over and over.
"Mom... Dad... my stomach really hurts, I can't even stand up... let me out, please..."
One sentence came back through the door.
"Your sister is dying tonight! Can you just give us one day? One day!"
"But... Mom... I'm scared..."
Nobody answered after that.
The cellar went quiet. My eyelids grew heavy.
My last thought was: if I were the one dying of a curse, would they come hold me too.
The zombie apocalypse had arrived, and pets could transform into guardians to protect their owners—each person was allowed no more than three.
My best friend had spent a fortune on three Tibetan mastiffs. The landlord cleared out a fish tank to raise a crocodile. My boyfriend? He had stormed the zoo and dragged a lion home.
And me? I only had three stray cats. The eldest was blind, the second one limped, and the youngest had just turned one month old.
The moment the apocalypse system announced that pet slots were locked, I knew I was doomed.
I tried to hide with my three disabled cats, hoping to survive quietly.
Day one of the apocalypse: terrified…
Day two: helpless…
Day three: my cats sauntered over, tails swishing, carrying some unidentifiable object.
"Mama, I bit off all the zombie heads on this street. How's that? Solid enough?"
I was rendered speechless.
After my mom, Margaret Hale, dies of a heart attack, she starts appearing in my sister Claire Dawson's dreams.
In a dream, Mom tells Claire to climb Mount Mistwood before sunrise and burn the entrance ticket for her, or the other ghosts will bully her.
Claire doesn't tell me anything. She packs a bag in the middle of the night and forces herself to the summit.
While she's gasping her way up that mountain, I'm asleep at home when I suddenly go into cardiac arrest. I wake up in the emergency room with doctors shouting over me.
I barely survive before Mom appears in Claire's dreams again.
This time, she says skydiving is her last wish. If Claire doesn't do it for her, she won't rest in peace.
Claire signs up right away, ignoring everything I say. But then, her parachute refuses to open, and she plummets toward the ground. Luckily, she gets snagged in a tree and walks away without a scratch.
Meanwhile, I miss a step going downstairs, tumble to the bottom, end up covered in bruises, and break five ribs.
While I'm recovering in the hospital, Mom shows up in Claire's dreams again.
Now, she wants Claire to go to the South Pole for her, saying she can finally move on and be reincarnated once Claire completes the trip.
Claire doesn't hesitate and books a tour on the spot.
While she's taking pictures with penguins, I freeze to death back home during a 104-degree heatwave.
Only after I die does it finally hit me that Mom's missions for Claire always end with me on death's doorstep.
What I don't understand is how Mom keeps shifting the danger meant for Claire onto me instead.
The next time I open my eyes, I'm back on the morning after Mom first appeared in Claire's dream.
In the middle of a lively night, can you guess what's about to come? In the middle of the busy street, do you realize there is something in the dump?
Shane Hoseinzade was peacefully sleeping on the floor when three conservative, loud knocks echoed inside. Would he open the door?
On the other side, someone wearing a black cloak and holding a giant scythe is standing on the doorstep. With head bowed down, a pair of mismatched eyes glowed while staring at the door. Patiently waiting for the target to open the door.
If you hear three violent knocks on your door at exactly midnight, would you dare to open the door?
But what if those violent knocks are the knocks of the person you promised to marry in the future?
Death? A grim reaper? A demon? Whoever it is, are you ready to face your fears?
DEATH GETS A LOVE LIFE.
"I accept," I say all at once and then lower my eyes shyly. "If you think my human body can serve as a substitute for her and fill your hunger, I'm willing to take that chance."
The feeling that I recognize in his eyes is one of shock and even fear, as though he hadn't expected at all that I'd agree.
"Let's do it," I whisper across the gap between us.
****
When metalhead Janet Buenviaje dies in a diving accident, she falls into an underworld prison where the only way out is through an eccentric reaper named Septimus Rex. As monarch of Soul City, Septimus Rex leads an army of supernatural Ravens tasked with the deportation of overstaying souls from the mortal realm.
But the fates smile on Janet because the head reaper has problems of his own. He has fallen in love with a mortal girl; an abhorrent sign of weakness that, if discovered by the Ravens, will start a power struggle in Hell. With Janet's help, Septimus must now attempt to confess his feelings to the girl of his dreams so he can go back to being devoid of human sentiment.
Janet is reincarnated as a Wampus Cat reaper and hatches an escape plan to the surface world. But she finds that things in the underworld are not what they seem and Septimus's problems run deeper, somehow even linked to her own mysterious past.
Death or Sebastian has searched for his other half for a millennium. He curses love and everything associated with it until he saves the life of a young boy who appears to be his soulmate. unfortunately for Sebastian the fate sisters and their mother Destiny have other plans for him. Will he be able to outwit the vindictive fates and find happiness or will they mess up everything. Sebastian must overcome his issues in order to truly find the love of his life and and an eternity of bliss he so desperately desires. Story contains boy love and mature scenes, do not read if that offends you. Full of fantastical characters you'll come to love.
I stumbled upon 'Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?' during one of my late-night bookstore raids, and let me tell you, it’s as macabrely fascinating as the title suggests. Written by Caitlin Doughty, a mortician with a knack for making death oddly entertaining, the book tackles all those weird, morbid questions kids (and let’s be honest, adults too) ask about corpses. Like, yes, will your cat actually nibble on you postmortem? Spoiler: probably. But it’s not just about feline dining habits—Doughty dives into decomposition, burial customs, and even how astronauts’ remains might fare in space. Her tone is darkly humorous but deeply respectful, which makes the whole thing feel like a cozy chat with your most goth friend.
What I love is how she blends science with storytelling. One minute you’re learning about rigor mortis, the next you’re giggling over historical anecdotes like Victorian 'safety coffins' with bells for the prematurely buried. It’s the kind of book that makes you pause mid-sentence to yell, 'Honey, did you know our bones turn into soap underground?!' Perfect for anyone who’s ever morbidly wondered about the logistics of death—or just wants to freak out their family at dinner.
I just finished reading 'Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?' last week, and let me tell you—it’s one of those books that grabs you by the curiosity and doesn’t let go. The title itself is a hilarious hook, but the content is surprisingly educational. Caitlin Doughty, the author, tackles morbid questions with a mix of science and dark humor. Now, about spoilers: it doesn’t spoil fictional deaths or plot twists because it’s nonfiction! Instead, it demystifies real-life death processes, like decomposition and animal scavenging, in a way that’s both frank and weirdly comforting.
If you’re worried about spoilers for, say, your favorite crime drama, don’t be. This book won’t ruin 'Sherlock' for you. But if you’ve ever wondered whether your pets might nibble on you postmortem (spoiler: they might, but not out of malice), Doughty’s got the answers. It’s less about shock value and more about satisfying morbid curiosity with facts. I walked away feeling like I’d attended the world’s most entertaining funeral science lecture.