From Publishers Weekly:
"Yancey keeps the shocks frequent and shrouded in a splattery miasma of
blood,
bone,
pus, and
maggots."
Now, I ask you: Isn't that a lot better than a house full of felines rubbing up against your legs and whining for food, and getting fur in your nostrils, and changing the litter box once every three months?
Give me a maggot or two and throw in some pus, and I'm all yours, BABY!
Don