Just one damn thing after another, cat,
And nothing ever gets better. Take yourself.
If Mrs. Crews had stayed alive till after
Your broken leg was nursed to purring health,

If it had been only a broken leg,
If you had come to a house where small children
Could have cried "Poor Kitty!"and turned to beg
"Oh please can we keep her we promise we'll

Take care of her —" If there had been money.
But you came here. We called you Lizzie Barret,
Which, poor kitty, was not a compliment.
We had three cats who got the lion's share

Of our affection. You chose badly, cat.
We'd just got a box of .22 longs,
And though it wasn't a thing done gladly,
We knew the cost of healing broken bones.

The cost of what we did? You were the first,
The first I'd ever shot to kill,
And life, cat, is just one damn thing after
Another, till another one lies still.