Yesterday morning on her way to work

She clipped a cat near the railway bridge and snapped its back.

She pulled over and rang me in floods of tears.

She said it was wearing a collar with a small disc attached to it

And that there was a phone number on one side

And the name ‘Puss’ on the other. I jotted down the number

And promised that I’d ring straight away. When I called,

A woman answered and I told her the terrible news.

I felt so bad that I offered to drive to the spot and if the cat

Was still there, deliver its body over to her house. Sure enough, it

Was still there, stretched out on the grass verge. I wrapped it

In a towel, placed it in the boot and then drove a couple of streets

To the address. The woman was waiting at the front gate.

She was late forties, black hair, around five six with a good figure

And shapely breasts. I handed her the limp parcel.

She’d had it 17 years and it was almost blind. She thanked me and

I climbed back into my car and headed home.

That evening, whilst being ridden in my chair, I thought of

The days events and lost my erection. I apologised and she went

To make a start on the pots. It had been a strange day for us both.

◄ Stunt man

And i think to myself. ►


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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Sat 10th Dec 2011 16:38

the loss of a good pussy
always makes me cry,
but never affects
the pork sword usage.

By weird coincidence re the poem-
I buried a dead(obviously!)rat today
and being a soppy old buddhist git,
I said a likkle prayer for him.

the nice young men
in their clean white coats
are due to arrive soon-
after my game of operation
with Napolean.

<Deleted User> (6315)

Sat 10th Dec 2011 16:23

This made me laugh too..but for the thought behind it Mike..a strange day is just the right term methinks!


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Rachel Bond

Mon 5th Dec 2011 10:33

'that evening whilst being ridden in my chair...'

ah well smashed up cats always put me off too mike. specially if they all limp.


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