Um, I live in rural America, where no one one cares. While the idea of having a little funeral for a stray animal and then writing music about it borders on craycray, out here if something bothers you, you deal with it yourself. Since moving here ten years ago, we have had to tackle a dead fawn, dead coyote pup, several dead rabbits, a partial rabbit stored by something in our mulch pile, and a raccoon head - just the head - left by a predator in the middle of our driveway. When I say "we," of course I mean Mr. Sprockets, because I'm not going near that shit.