This is a true story.
It happened shortly after we were married and moved into our house, in 1994.
Our house has the big metal doors that open up to stairs going down into our basement. Underneath the doors, the ground had settled quite a bit and left a pretty big hole, so Superfrydad, being the handyman he is, filled in the hole with dirt. Actually, he wasn't Superfrydad then because we didn't have any kids. So I guess I should refer to him as Superfryhubby.
Like I said, we didn't have any kids then. But we did have 2 cats. Outside cats, of course. (Someday I will blog about my extreme distate for indoor pets, but let's leave that for another time, shall we?)
Unbeknownst to Superfryhubby, one of the cats was in the hole when he filled it in with dirt.
He buried our cat alive.
Not on purpose, of course. We didn't know the cat was in the hole, but we did notice it was missing. The other cat started acting funny. It meowed really loud and since we don't speak cat, we didn't know what was wrong.
Long story short, a couple days later we heard a weird meowing, it was raining really hard, Superfrydad saw something moving underneath the concrete steps and we discovered the poor cat. It was soaking wet, covered in mud and it was starving.
We brought the cat inside, dried it off, fed it and put it back outside.
It ran away shortly thereafter.
We named our next cat Lazarus in his honor.