I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity
I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse. . . . 
It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself–to offer violence to its own nature–to do wrong for the wrong's sake only –that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. 

Plot Summary
By Michael J. Cummings

.......“Tomorrow, I die,” says the narrator, who is in a prison cell awaiting execution. Then he tells about the horrifying events that led up to his death sentence.
.......When he was growing up, he says, he was tender and compassionate. Because he especially liked animals, his parents provided him many pets to care for. His fondness for animals continued into adulthood. After he married, his wife also obtained pets for him, including birds, a goldfish, a dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a black cat.
.......The cat was so intelligent, the narrator says, that his wife frequently reminded him of an an old folk tale implicating black cats as witches in disguise. “Not that she was ever serious on this point,” the narrator says. It was an extremely large cat, which the narrator named Pluto, and it was his favorite pet. The cat was fond of him, too, for it followed him everywhere. 
.......Over the years, the narrator’s disposition changed for the worse when he began to drink heavily. He became moody, shouted at his wife, and even struck her at times. He mistreated all of his pets except Pluto. In time, however, he even started to mistreat the cat. One night when he returned home drunk, Pluto seemed to avoid him. Irritated, he seized it. The cat then bit him on the hand. So enraged did the narrator become that he withdrew a pocket knife and cut out one of the cat’s eyes.
.......The next morning, he experienced shock and remorse at what he had done–but not enough to change him. “I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.” In time the cat's wound healed completely. But it fled in terror whenever it saw him. At first he pitied it; later he despised it. 
.......One morning, he put a noose around its neck and, tying the rope to the limb of a tree, executed it. He had tears in his eyes when he did the deed, for he knew that the cat had loved him, that it had never crossed him. That night, he awakened to the cry of “Fire!” He, his wife, and his servant escaped, but the blaze destroyed his house and all his possessions.
.......The next day, he and other townspeople noticed a strange sight amid the ruins: The figure of a cat with a rope around its neck imprinted on the plaster of the only wall still standing in what had been his bedroom. The image horrified him. However, upon reflection, he surmised that someone in the crowd gathered outside during the fire must have cut down the cat and thrown it through his bedroom window to awaken him. Then, when one of the other walls fell, it must have pressed the outline of the cat into the wall that remained. 
.......For months, he thought about the cat and regretted killing it. While visiting taverns, he thought about getting another pet. One night, he saw a black cat on a barrel of gin or rum. It was as big as Pluto and similar to him in all other respects except one: It had a white splotch on its breast. When he stroked it, the cat purred and rubbed against his hand. After making inquiries, he discovered that the cat was apparently a stray. So he took it home.
.......The cat was content with its new surroundings, and the narrator’s wife took a fancy to it. In time, however, the narrator once again became irritable and moody. What helped to provoke him was that it had a missing eye, as Pluto did. Although the cat annoyed him, he avoided maltreating it; the memory of what he had done to Pluto was still fresh. Eventually, though, he began to detest the creature and attempted to avoid it whenever he saw it. But the cat sensed no animosity in him, for it followed him from room to room and sometimes jumped into his lap when he sat down.
.......After he noticed that the white hair on the cat's breast began to take on the shape of gallows, he had trouble sleeping. And when he did sleep, he would awaken to find the cat in bed with him. Soon, outright hatred of the cat–in fact, hatred of almost everyone and everything–seized him. 
.......One day, when the narrator and his wife went into the cellar on a household errand, the cat followed them. In a fit of rage, the narrator raised an axe to strike at the creature, but his wife stopped his arm from bringing the weapon down. Demoniacal fury then took hold of him. Pulling loose his arm, he “buried the axe in her brain.” After considering various ways of disposing of her body, he decided to hide it behind a brick wall. First, he removed the bricks. Next, he stood the body in the niche and replaced the bricks, using mortar to secure them in place.
.......Afterward, he looked for the cat, “for I had, at length, firmly resolved to put it to death.” But it had disappeared–apparently in fear of his wrath. That night, even with the weight of murder on his mind, he slept soundly. After all, there was no cat to irritate him. Three days passed, and still no cat. The narrator says, “My happiness was supreme!”  During this time, there were inquiries about the sudden disappearance of his wife, but he found it easy to answer questions and had no fear that the body would be discovered.
.......On the fourth day after her murder, police thoroughly investigated the house but, of course, found nothing. When they were about to leave, the narrator–pleased at his cleverness and his ability to handle the police–began to talk too much. 

'I delight to have allayed your suspicions," he said. "I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. By-the-by, gentlemen, this– this is a very well-constructed house." (In the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I uttered at all.) "I may say an excellently well-constructed house. These walls–are you going, gentlemen?–these walls are solidly put together"; and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brickwork behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.

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