There are people in this world who actually like cats
And that is sad. It’s a curious obsession that’s
Long overdue for serious attention. Perhaps,
This year, moves can be made to rectify this lapse.
Cats are so demanding, totally self-centred parasites.
Their personal comfort comes before all else. The rights
Of others not even considered. Faithful they are not.
They smarm around you when they want something but that’s your lot.
They’re sadists, toying with their prey, stretching out the fear and pain.
Yet see the noble Foxie with a rat, one shake, a broken neck, it’s slain.
“But they can’t help it. It’s their nature,” their enslaved defender cries.
That would excuse the little boys who pull the wings off flies.
Just why cold-blooded, heart-less killers get the name of Tiddles,
Smoochy-Puss or Cuddle-Pie is one of those moot riddles.
Unless it be, it indicates a certain softness in the head
Of those who’d be much better with a Teddy Bear instead.
We must liberate these cat-bond-servants. But how to begin?
Revive the Davy Crockett hat? Push fashion furs of tabby skin?
Ask Alison Holst to dream up some delectable cat recipes
Thus giving starving kids something nutritious for their teas.
To take this idea further, how’d it be if the Welfare
Gave kids raised on the benefit a gin trap or a snare?
Or bows and arrows? They’d have healthy sport and lots of fun,
P’raps national competitions, worthwhile prizes to be won.
It’s my dream, a new Utopia where the cat’s reign is no more.
No peevish yowls, shed hairs, or mad stampedes to the fridge door.
Where upholstery’s not claw-marked and, what most appeals to me,
Those once-befuddled slaves ALMOST approach normality.