Shadow cats, they pad unseen
down back alleys, spry and lean,
spawn of pets we’ve spurned, gone feral,
left to fend, they are not sterile,
breeding broods in drains, in sewers,
cute as buttons, kitten litters,
chowing down from tins and bowls
left kerbside by some kindly souls,
nine-lived livers, forged to last,
foraging through feast and fast,
dodging traffic and disease
in summer heat or winter freeze.