Poison Paw

Everyone's a critic. Including (apparently) my cat, Hobbes. I was revising a poem, and left the room with the document up and the laptop open on the kitchen counter. Imagine my surprise as I returned to find my final couplet reduced to this:

Feathers gyre from the sky, of little consequence.
He gives himself to [';;]\wsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Note carefully the angry cat face inside the brackets; two little dots (for eyes) above two commas (for exposed fangs). I can only assume what follows is a transcribed hiss and/or snarl.

This is what I get for leaving a bird poem where he could get at it.

As if I don't have enough merciless editors in my life.