The Fate of Fluffy - the Farm Cat


From Jacob Reynolds' Scrap Book

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



Poor Fluffy


The authoress Ursula Bloom had her first book, Tiger, printed when she was 7. She later went on to write some 500 novels and other books. In 1906, when she was 13, she visited her great uncle’s farm, Heath Farm, Bernards Heath, St Albans. She was so distressed with one aspect of how the farm animals were treated that she wrote a poem about it.


The villain was the farmer, Jacob Reynolds. He was much amused by the attitude of this sentimental young lady to his policy of controlling the farm cats. He copied her poem into his scrap book and added a verse of his own.


In those days it was the practice on farms in the area to encourage a number of cats to make their home in the farm yard to keep down the vermin. However they were not allowed to stray into the fields to hunt the rabbits. After all, farmers used to shot and sell the rabbits at the market, and cats that took up poaching did not last long. My father Gerald Reynolds, was brought up on nearby Hammonds Farm, Sandridge in the 1920s and 30s and the practice was to shoot any cat seen hunting more than two fields from the farm.

Our Tom had been so misbehaved

And of it should have been ashamed

But he was not

And when his master asked him why

He did not deign to make reply

So he was shot



April 2015   Page Created