I got this one
He had it coming, that ’un.
I saw him there, sat on
the wall, all smug,
well fed, fat mog.
Fur brushed, family pet:
he never had an empty gut
or got shoved around and spat on.
His skin wa’nt marked with scars.
He wa’nt left locked outside
for hours while she shagged;
he’d been stroked and hugged:
pampered pussy – I knew.
He turned and mewed
at me. I poked his arse
with a stick. He stuck
his paw out, claws out, struck
out, got me on the cheek.
I swung me stick and knocked
’im off. Used me skill,
got the boot in till his skull
was smashed in all the muck.
Knelt down, knife out, nicked
off his ears, one, two. His neck
’ad a blue strap with a buckle
and a little disc, solid metal,
showing he belonged.
Them lugs is hard now; I hanged
’em from me chain, for luck.
Anyway that cat had nine lives.