Tiddles is now four feet wide,
and whilst others might swell with pride,
To have a cat so grand, so fat,
I do not, for mine is flat.
I was not there, I did not see,
When Tiddles spirit was set free,
One passing poet, did however,
Relate the scene with some fervour.
“Roaring pistons set things rolling,
Tooting horns a death knell tolling,
And Tiddles, no attention paying,
Fell victim to a gruesome slaying.”
“Apparently not mentally agile,
His furry brain far too fragile,
He did not take the nearby zebra,
And contrived to become a pizza.”
Thus complete, I then reviewed,
Her work, which I thought quite crude,
Saying, “you’re having a giraffe,”
She produced a gory photograph.
Tiddles did not die in vain,
For lessons dwelt within the pain,
And all her kits (which I kept),
In traffic safety are adept.
So, let this tale a warning be,
To each cat owner where’re you be,
And teach your pet the green cross code
Lest they conspire to explode.