The Ultimate Question

For three days now, Ray and I have been ignoring something on our back patio. We have a mat out there, it's beige, something to wipe the feet before sliding to one's death on the tile in the kitchen. I am usually sans glasses in the morning, so I've been wondering what the curled up string on the mat was. I finally got my glasses to investigate.

Turns out it's a dried-up dead worm.

My best guess is that it was seeking refuge from the massive rain we had three days ago. It has to be that because there is no way that the cat, who has no killer instinct at all (except when Ray scratches her haunches), stalked it, dealt it the striking death chomp, and left it prettily packaged for the "people who feed me" to find. Simply implausible. This worm just must have crawled to what he thought was a relatively dry place, only to find that the Florida rain often swipes sideways and soaks the mat. I think the poor thing drowned. Here's the thing.

It died in the shape of a question mark, as if to say with his last dying breath, "What the...?"