http://artpad.art.com/?kchmzcq8blo
It was a short journey,
Carried in his arms.
Out from the kitchen where we found you
Deep in your last untroubled sleep
Into the sunlit garden where we laid you
By the lavender and hollyhocks
Beside the cherry tree.

And we remember still the waving tail
The wide green eyes that lost their glowing fire
The assertive voice that dwindled to weary silence
And the heart of such high courage
And valiant spirit that bore you out into the dark
Where now you hunt mice and bats and voles
Beneath an ever-waxing moon

There's a small and quite sweet ginger kitten,
found wandering afraid and alone.
He's one of just hundreds like him,
alone and without any home.

Some human just is not looking,
or caring to find where he's gone.
They go out and buy just a new one,
replaced like new toys just for fun.

Now cats they are treated as chattles,
They don't have a value you see.
If one gets let out too early,
they end up as strays, one, two, three.

Old cats that no one is after,
are thrown out like on refuse day.
People get tired of old rubbish,
don't care when they go astray.

Old cats have something to offer,
a dignity which humans have not.
They don't let you down like most people,
and they just put up with their lot.

When cats or when kittens go missing,
there aren't many people who care.
Some folks will ring in the rescue,
to see if they're handed in there.

If you have a cat, or a kitten,
it's yours for years yet to come.
It's your job to care and to love it,
not discard it or lose it like some.

The Country is crawling with kittens,
which people think are good fun,
they soon grow up and get boring,
and end up as strays like this one.