It was lying, larger than life, in the centre of a road in a place where you could forget was somewhere. It had sort of grey tan with dark brown stripes on its legs and tail with fainter spots of dark everywhere else. It lay as if asleep or caught between a stretch, like a photograph. The flies hovered on its paws, lips and eyes as if it were a pillow. It was a big cat, a tom perhaps. If it were a feral or a pet was hard to say, its fur was remarkably smooth and I felt compelled to pet it. It was the strangest thing to see, there really isn't much difference between life and death though I wish there was. I came home and sat on the couch with my old cat sleeping soundlessly on the rug with a soft lamp casting warm glows through the room. She was mostly in shadow and was laying in a strange way that meant she was deeply sleeping. She was breathing very softly and it was easy to think of her as dead, she looked very peaceful but also quite stiff and I found it very strange how easily I could imagine such a beautiful thing as dead.