"Ponsonby!  What have  you done!"
    It was clear that the cat was feeling quite pleased with himself as he laid the feathery carcass at the feet of his Principal Human.
    "This was a really difficult kill," meowed Ponsonby. "I really had to hunker down in the grass and wait.  You should've seen me stalk this sucker.  Patience, thy name is Ponsonby, eh?  And I brought it right to you, 'cause you're my Principal.  Aren't you proud of me?"
    "No, I'm not!" scolded the Principal. "I've told you to leave the birds alone!  Why do you think I provide you with a secure home and plenty of food?"
    "Because I'm so lovable?"
    "Well, maybe a little," confessed the Principal. "But I've warned you about this before, and now I have to punish you."
    "Uh, punish me?"
    "I'm afraid so," said the Principal. "It's for your own good!  So, I'm kicking you out of the house, effective immediately."
    "You're kicking me out?  For killing birds?  Are you going to feed me?"
    "Nope!  No food!"
    "Well, um, if you don't feed me," said Ponsonby, "I'm going to have to shift for myself.  And the most plentiful food around here has feathers, if you get my drift.  How is this going to stop me from killing birds?"
    The Principal eyed him narrowly.  "I know where you're going with that, Mister, and I'm way ahead of you!  You can just forget it!"
    "I can?"
    "You sure can!" said the Principal. "If you so much as touch a bird, I'm going to make you go up that tree and stay there!"
    "Um, which tree is that?" asked Ponsonby.
    "That big, tall one, right there," said the Principal. "The one with all those straw thingies."
    "Straw thingies?"
    "Yeah.  The ones with the round, white things in them."