ian dog hughes


A cat
A carnivore, a killer, a spiteful fur covered purr
Whiskers of wire and eyes of malice, precision furtively gliding towards an unsuspecting victim
Either a swipe or a pounce, the outcome is always a slow death.
No instant kill, no honour in your demise, no swift judgement on your being but a passing of agony, of tortuous pain, being pushed and prodded so your last movements of hoped escape are teased and pulled out of you – just to be smite one final agonising drawn out time

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