Oh father who art in heaven, please forgive me for my heart is heavy with thoughts of a most dark and twisted nature involving immense cruelty and, ultimately, the death of a living thing. I am trying my hardest to suppress such sadistic ideas but it is a struggle.
And what’s more, it was a local paper that is to blame. For I learnt in that journal a most amazing thing. And ever since last Thursday, I have lain awake at night planning and dreaming of what could be a most perfect, and ultimately deadly, revenge. Now I know the man from Galilee and his dad may well be pondering whether to strike me down for thinking such things. The object of my hatred is Royston, next door’s ginger pussy who may soon be planted in the garden under a daffodil. You see, newspaper revealed cats are allergic to something so common and cheap and easily available that it is too good an opportunity not to miss. For fear of copycat killings, I shall not name the toxin. Suffice to say it is widely used by adults and, what’s more, only costs 16p when bought in a packet of 16 from Wilkinsons in town. So you can kill a cat for 1p – what a bargain! Sometimes life really is sweet. I have been trying to extract revenge on Royston for many a year. I once contemplated using a shotgun. But not having a shotgun and not knowing how to fire one is a bit of a drawback. But it does illustrate the depths of ones frustrations with the furry blighter. But what, you may ask, has the poor pussy done? Well, it is a cat for a start. Is that not enough. No? Well, its heinous crime is to repeatedly crap all over my garden. In fact it is almost smug about it. While it sits there going about its business, it glares towards the house knowing I am seething in frustration at not being able to do anything about it. In my salad days I may have chased it with a bucket of cold water but the old knees are no longer capable of such zest. I tried putting down some upturned tacks – a tad nasty I know – but it had no effect. It just tiptoed by them. A special powder designed to keep it away called Cat Off - didn’t. I was told to try bleach on the paths because you see Rosyton and his mates don’t like it.
Except Royston took to licking the pavement and seemed quite sad when I stopped putting it down. So you see I am in a quandary. All it would take is a saucer of milk and one of these things from Wilkos… Please God give me a sign to say you will forgive me. Surely killing a cat is classed as a mercy killing – a case of putting it out of our misery. Personally I think death is over rated. | 
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