Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop.
Does a business, but I notice something weird.
Lately, all her neighbors cats have disappeared.
Have to hand it to her!
What I calls, enterprise!
Poppin' pussies into pies!
Wouldn't do in my shop!
Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick!
And I'm telling you them pussycats is quick.
I wish I could tell you this was a fanciful coloration of the tale, but the fact is (oh dear me) when it comes to anything handy on four feet or two wings, starving folk will eat it - even in the metropolises of the 19th century. History isn't always worthy of nostalgia, sorry to say. As you may read in this interesting if unfortunate thread. But does this threat make the little sods behave? No.
Though I did learn that Gordon Ramsay shot and cooked up a rook.