Tiddles

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.

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