By guest writer Joanne Lloyd
THE cat left the dead bird on the lawn, untouched but for gaping pink.
“Why?” I asked the cat. “You didn’t need to kill it for food.”
I glared as he cleaned his paws of the bird.
“It entertained me. And the flies will love it. It’ll be a feeding frenzy. I’ve given them a feast.”
“The flies would survive without you snuffing out a bird. It flew and sang and had a life. I already gave you food.”
“And now the flies won’t land on my food.” He rubbed against my leg. I tutted and turned to the newspaper.
© Joanne Lloyd 2016