Well, that’s one way to take care of feral cats, I suppose.
Tastes like chicken!
But then the alligators get under foot, and you have to bring in baboons with spears.
And Californians don’t have guns, do they? So what happens when the Van Nuyseans start saying, “Stop pointing that spear at me you dirty ape!”
They get speared, that’s what. And they wish for the bygone, halcyon summer days of feral cats in Willoughby.