Oh Fluffy was a favourite
He had a winsome smile
And with his naughty little ways
He did our hearts beguile
One day as he was strolling
On the lawn gold with the sun
A horrid man came creeping up
And with him his pet gun
Poor Puss he little guessed the harm
He heard his master’s foot
He did not know he had a gun
Nor dreamed that he would shoot
And buried now is Fluffy dear
We still bewail his lot
And never shall forget the day
When Fluffy dear was shot
The above poem was written by the 13 year old Ursula Bloom, who went on to get in the Guinness Book of Records for writing some 500 books. CLICK HERE to find out who killed Fluffy - and their poetic explanation.
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