Answer:
I'm carried by mad animals. What am I?
It is a cat but not a kitty, You'll never catch on in a city. Its fangs are huge and so its claws, A death machine with paws and jaws. In its own way a royal fellow, Striped with black and clothed in yellow
He's big, old and fluffy, And looking rather scruffy. He always needs a shave. It's best to just avoid him, And leave him in his cave
What spends the day at the window, goes to the table for meals and hides at night?
He calls in the morning, the day to renew, if his owner gets hungry, he'll be turned to stew. What is he?
What is it that makes tears without sorrow. And takes its journey to heaven?