No doubt about it, we’re a squeamish lot. Just as we’d prefer to think steaks come from a grocer’s freezer and not from a cow, we’d much rather not be confronted with the gore and finality of someone else’s death. It’s too immediate a reminder of our own fragile mortality, something we’d much rather not dwell on.
No one wants to discover a corpse, whether it be the remains of a person or a pet. Dead bodies belong in funeral homes where we have a chance to emotionally prepare for viewing them; they shouldn’t turn up under our hotel beds or stuck to the grills of our cars, where their shocking appearances can send us screaming into the night.