I hope you’re not too angry
that I shaved your old fur coat.
The protesters got to me.
Fur is murder, it seems.
So I’ve disguised the dog
as your arthritic uncle
and let the cat know
we’ll no longer be needing his services.
I’ve buried baby’s teddies
as a symbolic gesture,
and donated your questionable
fuzzy bedroom slippers
to some conscienceless charity.
Fur is murder, it seems.
I hope I haven’t gone too far.