Cat Poetry

Cat Poetry

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Kitten’s Night Thoughts

When human folk put out the light
And think they’ve made it dark as night,
A pussycat sees every bit
As well as when the lights are lit.

When human folk have gone upstairs
And shed their skins and said their prayers,
And there is no one to annoy,
Then Pussy may her life enjoy.

No human hands to pinch or slap,
Or rub her fur against the nap,
Or throw cold water from a pail,
Or make a handle of her tail.

And so you will not seek it wrong,
When she can play the whole night long,
With no one to disturb her play,
That pussy goes to bed by day.
~ Oliver Herford ~

I Am the Cat

In Egypt they worshiped me-
I am the cat.
Because I bend not to the will of man
They call me a mystery.
When I catch and play with a mouse,
They call me cruel,
Yet they take animals to keep
In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.
They shoot, they hang, they torture them,
Yet dare to call me cruel.
Could they but see themselves
As I, the Cat, see them,
These human creatures, bereft of all freedom,
Who follow in the ruts others made
Long ages gone!
Who have rings in their noses,
Yet know it not.
They hate me, the Cat,
Because, forsooth, I do not love them.
Do they love me?
They think all animals are made for their pleasure
To be their slaves.
And, while I kill only for my needs,
They kill for pleasure, power and gold,
And then pretend to a superiority!
Why should I love them?
I, the Cat, whose ancestors
Proudly trod the jungle,
Not one ever tamed by man.
Ah, do they know
That the same immortal hand
That gave them breath, gave breath to me?
But I alone am free-
~ Leila Usher ~

No Comparison

What can compare with the sight of a cat,
the soft, silky fur,
delicate feet,
wide trusting eyes,
the tinest eyelashes.

What can possibly compare with the ways of a cat,
the sinuous stretch,
a serious washing,
the coma of sleep,
a tiny cat sneeze.

What is there to compare with a cat’s play,
chewing your newspaper,
attacking your toes,
a game of “chase”,
the gift of a mouse.

What indeed can compare with a cat’s affection,
the rumbling purr,
a paw on your knee,
the rubbing of noses,
and sweet kitty kisses.
~ Sharon Remmen ~

Purrsonally Speaking

In this world of hustle-bustle
You may have your this and that;
But there’s nothing quite so pleasing
As the purring of a cat.
~ Marcy Stewart Froemke ~

Angel of the Night

I know my cat’s an angel
For he watches over me.
Slyly, when his eyes seem shut;
At night, when I can’t see.
I know my cat’s an angel
For his ears protect my sleep.
A creak, a squeak, a footfall;
At any noise he’ll leap.
I know my cat’s an angel
For he curls up at my side;
A warning to intruders
That’s it’s best to run and hide.
I know my cat’s an angel
For although he hasn’t wings
I’m safe and warm beside him,
Wrapped in all the love he brings.
~ Nancy Joseph ~

Growltiger’s Last Stand

Growltiger was a Bravo Cat, who lived upon a barge;
In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large.
From Gravesend up to Oxford he pursued his evil aims,
Rejoicing in his title of “The Terror of the Thames.”

His manners and appearance did not calculate to please;
His coat was torn and seedy, he was baggy at the knees;
One ear was somewhat missing, no need to tell you why,
And he scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye.

The cottagers of Rotherhithe knew something of his fame,
At Hammersmith and Putney people shuddered at his name.
They would fortify the hen-house, lock up the silly goose,
When the rumour ran along the shore:

Woe to the weak canary, that fluttered from its cage;
Woe to the pampered Pekinese, that faced Growltiger’s rage.
Woe to the bristly Bandicoot, that lurks on foreign ships,
And woe to any Cat with whom Growltiger came to grips!

But most to Cats of foreign race his hatred had been vowed;
To Cats of foreign name and race no quarter was allowed.
The Persian and the Siamese regarded him with fear -
Because it was a Siamese had mauled his missing ear.

Now on a peaceful summer night, all nature seemed at play,
The tender moon was shining bright, the barge at Molesey lay.
All in the balmy moonlight it lay rocking on the tide -
And Growltiger was disposed to show his sentimental side.

His bucko mate, Grumbuskin, long since had disappeared,
For to the Bell at Hampton he had gone to wet his beard;
And his bosun, Tumblebrutus, he too had stol’n away -
In the yard behind the Lion he was prowling for his prey.

In the forepeak of the vessel Growltiger sat alone,
Concentrating his attention on the Lady Griddlebone.
And his raffish crew were sleeping in their barrels and their bunks -
As the Siamese came creeping in their sampans and their junks.

Growltiger had no eye or ear for aught but Griddlebone,
>And the Lady seemed enraptured by his manly baritone,
Disposed to relaxation, and awaiting no surprise -
But the moonlight shone reflected from a thousand bright blue eyes.

And closer still and closer the sampans circled round,
And yet from all the enemy there was not heard a sound.
The lovers sang their last duet, in danger of their lives -
For the foe was armed with toasting forks and cruel carving knives.

Then Gilbert gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian horde;
With a frightful burst of fireworks the Chinks they swarmed aboard.
Abandoning their sampans, and their pullaways and junks,
They battened down the hatches on the crew within their bunks.

Then Griddlebone she gave a screech, for she was badly skeered;
I am sorry to admit it, but she quickly disappeared.
She probably escaped with ease, I’m sure she was not drowned -
But a serried ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround.

The ruthless foe pressed forward, in stubborn rank on rank;
Growltiger to his vast surprise was forced to walk the plank.
He who a hundred victims had driven to that drop,
At the end of all his crimes was forced to go ker-flip, ker-flop.

Oh there was joy in Wapping when the news flew through the land;
At Maidenhead and Henley there was dancing on the strand.
Rats were roasted whole at Brentford, and at Victoria Dock,
And a day of celebration was commanded in Bangkok.
~ T.S. Eliot ~

Lickety, Splickety, and the Old Tom Cat

Lickety, splickety, very pernickety
Mrs. O’Connolly hustles along on her
Rickety bicycle, cold as an icicle,
Treadalling pedalling meddling on!

And the old
tom cat
stretches slowly
by the fire.

What can the matter be, Mrs. O’Rafferty
Falling all over herself in her worry to
Get to the baker and pick out a cake for a

And the old
tom cat
pads slowly
up the stairs.

Oh what calamity, Mrs. O’Flamity
Falls out the window on top of a barrow -
it tumbles and jumbles up Mrs. O’Connolly -
Mrs. O’Rafferty slips down a narrow
Gap down by the gutter and falls in a pothole.
Oh mercy! The poor silly thing is in agony!
Mrs. O’Connolly’s under a jag! Any
witnesses please to the dreadful calamity
Come to the Polis and please bring a bottle!

And the old
tom cat
rolls over, smiles, and sleeps.
~ Author Unknown ~

The Old Woman And Her Cats

Who friendship with a knave hath made
Id judg’d a partner in the trade.
The matron, who conducts abroad
A willing nymph, is though a bawd;
And if a modest girl is seen
With one who cures a lover’s spleen,
We guess her, not extremely nice,
And only wish to know her price.
‘Tis thus, that on the choice of friends
Our good or evil name depends.

A wrinkled hag, of wicked fame,
Beside a little smoky flame
sat hov’ring, pinch’d with age and frost;
Her shrivell’d hands, her veins embost,
Upon her knees her weight sustains,
While palsy shook her crazy brains;
She mumbles forth her backward prayers,
An untam’d scold or fourscore years.
About her swarm’d a num’rous brood
Of Cats, who lank with hunger mew’d.

Teaz’d with their cries her choler grew,
And thus she sputter’d. Hence, ye crew.
Fool that I was, to entertain
Such imps, such fiends, a hellish train!
Had ye been never hous’d and nurst
I, for a witch, had ne’er been curst.
To you I owe, that crouds of boys
Worry me with eternal noise;
Straws laid across my pace retard,
The horse-shoe’s nail’d (each threshold’s guard)
The stunted broom the wenches hide,
For fear that I should up and ride;
The stick with pins my bleeding seat,
And bid me shew my secret teat.

To hear you prate would vex a saint,
Who hath most reason of complaint?
Replies a Cat. Let’s come to proof.
Had we ne’er starved beneath yur roof.
We had, like others of our race,
In credit liv’d, as beasts of chace.
‘Tis infamy to serve a hag;
Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag;
And boys against our lives combine,
Because, ’tis said, your cats have nine.
~ John Gay ~

The Cat

Within that porch across the way,
I see two naked eyes this night;
Two eyes that neither shut nor blink,
Searching my face with a green light.

But cats to me are strange so strange -
I cannot sleep if one is near,
And though I am sure I see those eyes,
I’m not so sure a body’s there!
~ W.H. Davies ~

When God Created Kitty Cats

When God created kitty cats,
He had no recipe;
He knew He wanted something sweet,
As sweet as sweet could be.

He started out with sugar,
Adding just a trace of spice;
Then stirred in drops of morning dew,
To keep them fresh and nice.

He thought cats should be soft to pet,
Thus He gave them coats of fur;
So they could show they were content,
He taught them how to purr.

He made for them long tails to wave,
While strutting down the walk;
Then trained them in meow-ology,
So they could do cat-talk.

He made them into acrobats,
And gave them grace and poise;
Their wide-eyed curiosity,
He took from little boys.
He put whiskers on their faces,
Gave them tiny ears for caps;
Then shaped their little bodies,
To snugly fit on laps.

He gave them eyes as big as saucers,
To look into man’s soul;
Then set a tolerance for mankind,
As their purpose and their goal.

Benevolent … and … generous,
He made so many of them;
Then charged, with Fatherly Concern,
The human race to love them.

When one jumped up upon His lap,
God gently stroked its head;
The cat gave Him a kitty kiss,
“What wondrous love,” God said.

God smiled at His accomplishment,
So pleased with His creation;
And said, with pride, as He sat back,
“At last. . .I’ve reached purr-fection!”
~ Author Unknown ~

Cats are Better than Dogs

Cats are far, far better than dogs
as everybody knows.

They would never destroy the furniture, they would never
attack one’s toes.

Why, on any city corner just look and you will find
a careful, vigilant guidecat, faithfully leading the blind.

Afar up in the frozen north, where it’s leventy-seven below,
man depends upon the catsled to get where he must go.

If buried in an avalanche with no way to get free,
the rescue cat will dig you out, as quickly as can be.

At night, if to one’s house should come, a prowler meaning harm
the ever attentive watchcat will be sure to sound the alarm.

And should there be a jailbreak, then the nose of the hardy bloodcat
will pick up the scent of the reprobate and catch him just like that!

Yes, cats are far better than dogs, as everybody knows…
they would never destroy the furniture.
They would never attack one’s toes.
~ Edward Festor ~

A Cat’s Prayer to Bast

As I lay me down to sleep
I pray to Bast my soul to keep,
I pray to Bast my soul to take,
And transport it to the sandy lands
Where my forbears worshipped were,
Where my ancient kin were much revered
And where the cat first learned to purr.

As I pad on velvet feet
I pray Bast will give me mice to eat,
And as I use my litter tray
I ask that she will find me play,
In her bright heaven where all cats,
Are stroked by Bast’s most blessed hands,
And bask and gambol in her care,
Remembering Egypt’s ancient sands.

As I knead upon your knees,
I hope that Bast is greatly pleased
To see her child at rest and play,
Fed and cared for every day,
And when I reach that glorious place
And gaze upon her feline face,
I’ll ask that Bast will grant you grace
To join me in eternal play.
~ Author Unknown ~


There’s music in a hammer,
There’s music in a nail,
There’s Music in a tom-cat
When you tread upon his tail.
~ Author Unknown ~


My motorised ball of fluff,
You have golden eyes pink ears and a pink nose
But your long hair is white as winter snow
And warms you like a waistcoat.
A flattened nose and baby teeth
But when you run
It is as though the carpet moves.
You eat for a grown cat
And drink the milk basin dry.
You dig enormous mounds in your tray
As you hide the evidence.
Best when you play games
Biting chewing pouncing
Leaping on cat
Who thumps you scolds you
Chases you back to your place
Where you simper and lick yourself
In pleasure.
My girl.
~ Douglas Clark ~


There is something so peculiar in a cat’s mysterious ways,
That I’m inclined to think I hit the mark
In hinting at affinities with beings we can’t praise,
And do not like to think of after dark.

Have you noted, a cozy winter evening, in your chair,
You would start up with a sudden, “Oh, dear me!”
As you caught, intently gazing at a thing that wasn’t there,
The feline member of your family?

Have you noticed how she listens with a sharp and anxious ear?
And how she moves her head along the wall?
And you get so very nervous at the things you cannot hear,
That you hardly dare to go to bed at all.

It is only that her senses, preternaturally keen,
At night are very, very wide-awake;
And she looks at trifling shadows on the ceiling or the screen,
That our dull, human vision does not take.

For the very softest footfall of a mouse in distant wall,
Does not escape that most attentive ear,
Which is tuned to fine accordance far beyond our human call.
Yet it sometimes make us feel a little queer.

I wish they wouldn’t do so, for it isn’t very nice
To have attention drawn from pleasant book,
And nervously imagine – when they only think of mice -
And feel a strange sensation, when they look.
~ Elliot Walker ~

The Rubáiyát of a Persian Kitten

Wake! for the Golden Cat has put to flight
The Mouse of Darkness with his Paw of Light:
Which means, in Plain and simple every-day
Unoriental Speech – The Dawn is Bright.

They say the Early Bird the Worm shall taste.
Then rise, O Kitten! Wherefore, sleeping, waste
The fruits of Virtue? Quick! the Early Bird
Will soon be on the flutter – O make haste!

The Early Bird has gone, and with him ta’en
The Early Worm – Alas! the Moral’s plain,
O Senseless Worm! Thus, thus we are repaid
For Early Rising – I shall doze again.

The Mouse makes merry ‘mid the Larder Shelves,
The Bird for Dinner in the Garden delves.
I often wonder what the creatures eat
One half so toothsome as they are Themselves.

And that Inverted Bowl of Skyblue Delf
That helpless lies upon the Pantry Shelf -
Lift not your eyes to It for help, for It
Is quite as empty as you are yourself.

The Ball no question makes of Ayes or Noes,
But right or left, as strikes the Kitten, goes;
Yet why, altho’ I toss it far Afield,
It still returneth – Goodness only knows!

A Secret Presence that my likeness feigns,
And yet, quicksilver-like, eludes my pains -
In vain I look for Him behind the glass;
He is not there, and yet He still remains.

What out of airy Nothing to invoke
A senseless Something to resist the stroke
Of unpermitted Paw – upon the pain
Of Everlasting Penalties – if broke.

I sometimes think the Pussy-Willows grey
Are Angel Kittens who have lost their way,
And every Bulrush on the river bank
A Cat-Tail from some lovely Cat astray.

Sometimes I think perchance that Allah may,
When he created Cats, have thrown away
The Tails he marred in making, and they grew
To Cat-Tails and to Pussy-Willows grey.

And lately, when I was not feeling fit,
Bereft alike of Piety and Wit,
There came an Angel Shape and offered me
A fragrant Plant and bid me taste of it.

‘Twas that reviving Herb, that Spicy Weed,
The Cat-Nip. Tho’ ’tis good in time of need,
Ah, feed upon it lightly, for who knows
To what unlovely antics it may lead.

Strange – is it not? – that of the numbers who
Before me passed this Door of Darkness thro’,
Not one returns thro’ it again, altho’
Ofttimes I’ve waited here an hour or two.

‘Tis but a Tent where takes his one Night’s Rest
A Rodent to the Realms of Death address’d,
When Cook, arising, looks for him and then -
Baits, and prepares it for another Guest.

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamsbýd gloried and drank deep
The Lion is my cousin; I don’t know
Who Jamsbýd is – nor shall it break my sleep.

Impotent glimpses of the Game displayed
Upon the Counter – temptingly arrayed;
Hither and thither moved or checked or weighed,
And one by one back in the Ice Chest laid.

What if the Sole could fling the Ice aside,
And with me to some Area’s haven glide -
Were’t not a Shame, were’t not a shame for it
In this Cold Prison crippled to abide?

Some for the Glories of the Sole, and Some
Mew for the proper Bowl of Milk to come.
Ah, take the fish and let your Credit go,
And plead the rumble of an empty Tum.

One thing is certain: tho’ this Stolen Bite
Should be my last and Wrath consume me quite,
One taste of It within the Area caught
Better than at the Table lost outright.

Indeed, indeed Repentance oft before
I swore, but was I hungry when I swore?
And then and then came Cook – with Hose in hand -
And drowned my glory in a sorry pour.

What without asking hither harried whence,
And without asking whither harried hence
O, many a taste of that forbidden Sole
Must down the memory of that Insolence.

Heaven, but the vision of a flowing Bowl;
And Hell, the sizzle of a frying Sole
Heard in the hungry Darkness, where Myself,
So rudely cast, must impotently roll.

The Vine has a tough fibre which about
While clings my Being; – let the Canine flout
Till his Bass Voice be pitched to such loud key
It shall unlock the door I mew without.

Up from the Basement to the Seventh flat
I rose, and on the Crown of fashion sat,
And many a Ball unravelled by the way -
But not the Master’s angry Bawl of “Scat!”

Then to the Well of Wisdom I, – and lo!
With my own Paw I wrought to make it flow,
And this was all the Harvest that I reaped:
We come like Kittens and like Cats we go.

Why be this Ink the Fount of Wit? – who dare
Blaspheme the glistening Pen-drink as a snare?
A Blessing? – I should spread it, should I not?
And if a Curse – why, then upset it! – there!

A moment’s Halt, a momentary Taste
Of Bitter, and amid the Trickling Waste
I wrought strange shapes from Máh to Máhi, yet
I know not what I wrote, nor why they chased.

Now I, beyond the Pale am safely past.
O, but the long, long time their Rage shall last,
Which, tho’ they call to supper, I shall heed
As a Stone Cat should head a Pebble cast.

And that perverted Soul beneath the Sky
They call the Dog – Heed not his angry Cry;
Not all his Threats can make me budge one bit,
Nor all his Empty Bluster terrify.

They are no other than a moving Show
Of whirling Shadow Shapes that come and go
Me-ward thro’ Moon illumined Darkness hurled,
In midnight, by the Lodgers in the Row.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent
The Backyard fence and heard great Argument
About it, and About, yet evermore
Came out with few fur than in I went.

Ah me! if you and I could but conspire
To grasp this Sorry Scheme of things entire,
Would we not shatter it to bits, and then
Enfold it nearer to our Heart’s Desire?

Tho’ Two and Two make four by rule of line,
Or they make Twenty-two by Logic fine,
Of all the Figures one may fathom, I
Shall ne’er be floored by anything but Nine.

And fear not lest Existence shut the Door
On You and Me, to open it no more.
The Cream of Life from out your Bowl shall pour
Nine times – ere it lie broken on the floor.

So, if the fish you Steal – the Cream you drink -
Ends in what all begins and ends in, Think,
Unless the Stern Recorder points to Nine,
Tho’ They would drown you – still you shall not sink.
~ Oliver Herford ~
This is a facsimile of the original 1904 edition of Oliver Herford’s clever, illustrated parody of Omar Khayyám’s Rubáiyát, which tells the misadventures of an adorable Persian kitten.

Kitten’s Night Thoughts

There was a little cat,
And she caught a little rat,
Which she dutifully rendered to her mother –
Who said, “Bake him in a pie,
For his flavor’s very high,
Or confer him on the poor, if you’d rather.”
~ Mark Twain ~

Do You Remember Me?

I remember when you loved me, when you held me in your arms and snuggled me.
I remember when you stroked me and kissed me and told me how handsome I was.
I remember how you used to brush my coat and wipe me down with a soft cloth.
I remember sleeping next to you in a big bed, lying on your pillow beside your sweet smelling hair.
I remember the toys you bought me, how you played with me; oh! What joyful fun!
I remember how every morning I would purr and gently touch your cheek with my soft paw to awaken you.
I remember your sweet smile, and how you would sing out “good morning, my precious”, when your eyes opened.
I remember the delicious food you used to give me, how there was always plenty to eat.
I remember how very much I loved you, adored you, worshiped you!
Do you remember me?

I remember when you brought the man home and introduced him to me.
I remember that you said he was your husband; that you loved him and that he would love me, too.
I remember that the man did not smell like a cat lover, but that if you loved him, then I would try to love him, too.
I remember that the man was loud and he would frighten me with his hard footsteps.
I remember that the man was not cruel to me, but indifferent to me as I begged him to stroke me.
I remember when the man said cats do not belong in the bedroom and then I no longer was allowed to sleep on your pillow.
I remember how I missed awakening you every morning.
Do you remember me?

I remember when you came home one day with a sweet smelling bundle in your arms.
I remember you held it gently, snuggled it closely and told me that it was your baby and that you loved it.
I remember thinking that if you loved it, I would love it, too.
I remember being curious about it and sniffing it often, for it smelled like you, but it was small like me.
I remember the man being fearful as I sniffed the baby. The man said that I would hurt the baby.
I remember being put outside, where I had never been before, and it scared me so badly!
I remember sitting on the porch, crying and begging you to let me back inside.
I remember that you never came to the door to let me in.
I remember that night when the other cats came,they watched me from the darkness and hissed at me.
I remember that I was so afraid they would hurt me; I had no claws and could not defend myself!
I remember huddling miserably against the door at night; afraid, and lonely.
I remember the man saying that I kept him awake at nights with my cries, so I had to go away.
I remember you putting me into a box, and that you would not even meet my eyes.
Do you remember me?

I remember being tossed from the moving car, box and all; and how much it hurt hitting the hard ground.
I remember escaping from the box and having no idea at all as to where I was; where you were.
I remember waiting there, for days, hoping you would come and save me.
I remember being hungry, thirsty, lost, alone, and afraid.
I remember looking for food, being so hungry, rummaging in garbage cans for something to eat.
I remember other cats chasing me, scratching me, and biting me because I was in their territory.
I remember trying to find you; scent you on the breeze. And I could not sense you anywhere.
I remember running and looking for you; running until my paws bled.
I remember how my once glossy coat became matted and dull; my once robust body, gaunt from hunger.
I remember the monster with the very bright eyes as it swooped down upon me in the road.
I remember the pain, horrible pain and the feel of my blood as it ran from my mouth.
I remember not being able to move; my legs did not work anymore.
I remember needing you more than I had ever needed you before in my life. And yet you did not come.
I remember how very much I loved you as I lay there dying alone, afraid, and in terrible pain.
Do you remember me?

~ Tiger ~ “This was written by me shortly after I treated a dying cat who, from all indications, had been dumped.”

On TigerLady’s site, she has a strong message that all of us shouldalways keep in our minds and hearts, whether we are pet owners or know of an abused, neglected, wounded, or homeless animal. She states: “Did the above poem touch you in some way? Did it move your heart? Did it make you cry? Did it stir something inside of you to make you want to help? If so, then DO something. Do not just sit there and think about what you could, or might do to help abused animals. Get up off of your rump and actually DO something!!

“Contact your local Animal Control Office, your local chapter of the SPCA, or your local chapter of the Humane Society of the United States. You can also contact me via e-mail and I will point you to other volunteer organizations within your own area. The point is toACT, not just to think. Open your mind, your heart, your home, and yes, sometimes even your wallet. Use your own unique abilities to help those who cannot help themselves.

“Please, for the love of God, always remember: animals are not disposable like so much refuse. They think, they feel, they remember, and they can be hurt.” ~ Tiger’s Lair
Reprinted with express written permission – All Rights Reserved

Verses on a Cat

A cat in distress,
Nothing more, nor less;
Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,
As I am a sinner,
It waits for some dinner
To stuff out its own little belly.

You would not easily guess
All the modes of distress
Which torture the tenants of earth;
And the various evils,
Which like so many devils
Attend the poor souls from their birth.

Some a living require,
And others desire
An old fellow out of the way;
And which is the best
I leave to be guessed,
For I cannot pretend to say.

One wants society,
Another variety,
Others a tranquil life;
Some want food.
Others, as good,
Only want a wife.

But this poor little cat
Only wanted a rat,
To stuff out its own little maw;
And it were as good
Some people had such food,
To make them hold their jaw.
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley ~

The Fat Cat Sat on the Mat

Wilma the witch has a crazy broom.
It likes to fly around her room.
She also has a fat cat
and a pet rat.

Wilma loves her pet rat.
She calls the rat
“my little brat.”

The rat hates the cat.
The cat does not care.
The cat, who is fat,
just lies in the vat
and stares at the rat.
The rat hates that.

One night, when Wilma was out,
the fat cat got out of the vat.
He went, pit-a-pat,
and sat on the mat.

“This is MY mat!” said the rat.
“So what,” said the cat.
“So get off!” said the rat.
“No I won’t,” said the cat.

“Then I will go and get my bat,”
said the rat.
“It will get you off the mat.”
“No it won’t,” said the cat.

“This is the mat of the rat,”
said the bat.
“So what,” said the cat.
“So get off!” said the bat.
“No I won’t,” said the cat.

“Then I will go and get my hat,”
said the bat.
“It will get you off the mat.”
” No it won’t,” said the cat.

“This is the mat of the rat,”
said the hat.
“So what,” said the cat.
“So get off!” said the hat.
“No I won’t,” said the cat.

“I am a cat, and I am fat,
No rat, no bat, no hat
can move me.
I shall sit on this mat
for as long as I wish.”
“We shall see,” said the hat.

“Look what we have,” said the hat.
“Big deal, a dish,” said the cat.
“A dish and what else?” asked the hat.
“Mmmm … a fish!” said the cat.
“A fish on a dish,” said the hat.
“For me?” asked the cat.
“Yes, for you,” said the hat.

“Bring it closer,” said the cat.
“Come and get it,” said the hat.

“You think I am stupid,”
said the cat.
“You want me to get off the mat.
I won’t get off, and that is that!”

Rat-a-tat …

“What was that?” asked the bat.
“I don’t know,” said the hat.

Rat-a-tat …

“It sounds like a rat with a tat,”
said the cat.

“It is not me,” said the rat.
“What is a tat?” asked the bat.
“I don’t know,” said the hat.
“Look! The broom!” cried the bat.

The broom flew into the room.
It zoomed over the mat,
over the cat,
over the hat and the bat
and Wilma’s pet rat.
The fish flew off the dish.

It landed on the hat,
which landed on the bat,
who landed on the rat,
who landed on the cat,
lying flat on the mat.

“Get off!” said the cat.
“No we won’t!” said the hat
and the bat and the rat.
The fish said nothing.

Wilma came home.
She looked at the room.
She picked up the broom.
Then she asked,
“Why is the fish out of the dish?”

“Because of the cat,” said the rat.
“The fat cat sat on my mat!”

“My dear little brat,” said Wilma,
“what makes you think
this is YOUR mat?”

The fat cat smiled.

The fat cat got up
and stretched.
Off flew the rat, the bat,
amd the hat.

He ate the fish,
licked the dish,
and went back
to lie down in the vat.

“Thank goodness!”
said the mat.
~ Nurit Karlin ~

Sonnet to Mrs. Reynolds’ Cat

Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy’d How many tit-bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears but pr’ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me and upraise
Thy gentle mew and tell me all thy frays
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists –
For all the wheezy asthma, and for all
Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists
In youth thou enter’dst on glass bottled wall.
~ John Keats ~

The Owl and the Pussy-cat

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”

Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long have we tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
~ Edward Lear ~

The Stray Cat

It’s just an old alley cat
that has followed us all the way home.

It hasn’t a star on its forehead
or a silky satiny coat.

No proud tiger strips, no dainty tread,
no elegant velvet throat.

It’s a splotchy, blotchy
city cat, not a pretty cat,
a rough little tough little bag of old bones.

“Beauty,” we shall call you.
“Beauty, come in.”
~ Eve Merriam ~

That Cat

The cat that comes to my window sill
When the moon looks cold and the night is still –
He comes in a frenzied state alone
With a tail that stands like a pine tree cone,
And says: “I have finished my evening lark,
And I think I can hear a hound dog bark.
My whiskers are froze’nd stuck to my chin.
I do wish you’d git up and let me in.”
That cat gits in.

But if in the solitude of the night
He doesn’t appear to be feeling right,
And rises and stretches and seeks the floor,
And some remote corner he would explore,
And doesn’t feel satisfied just because
There’s no good spot for to sharpen his claws,
And meows and canters uneasy about
Beyond the least shadow of any doubt
That cat gits out.
~ Ben King ~

Five Eyes

In Hans’ old mill his three black cats
Watch his bins for the thieving rats.
Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night,
Their five eyes smouldering green and bright:
Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where
The cold wind stirs on the empty stair,
Squeaking and scampering, everywhere.
Then down they pounce, now in, now out,
At whisking tail, and sniffing snout;
While lean old Hans he snores away
Till peep of light at break of day;
Then up he climbs to his creaking mill,
Out come his cats all grey with meal –
Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill.
~ Walter de la Mare ~

Angel Harps

Last night I saw you in my dreams
a brilliant light engulfed your soul.
And through my sleepy reverie
a glorious message did unfold.

The voice was that of angel harps
as you told me of the way
in which the bridge kids celebrate
this extraordinary day.

A radiant warmth ran through me
when you tenderly detailed
a special place I’ve never been
where splendid love prevails.

You told me how the bridge kids
hold their paws and pray
for peace on earth, goodwill toward men
on this special, holy day.

Each bridge kid makes a heartfelt wish
to the Keeper of the stars,
they wish each stray a new-found home
without concrete floors or bars.

They ask that every homeless one
the Keeper not forget,
for each one has the soul to be
a loyal, loving pet.

I watch you drift away from me
as in early dawn I find
the spirit of your paw-print message
still vivid in my mind.

I hold the message near my heart
and with a smile I hear
a lullaby of angel harps
singing in my ear.
~ Terri Onorato ~

Little Paws Prayer

This is a prayer for little paws
All up and down the land,
Driven away, no friendly voice
Never an outstretched hand.

For weary paws of little beasts
Torn and stained with red,
And never a home and never a rest,
Till little beasts are dead.

Oh God of homeless things, look down
And try to ease the way
Of all the little weary paws
That walk the world
~ Author Unknown ~

Milk for the Cat

When the tea is brought at five o’clock,
And all the neat curtains are drawn with care,
The little black cat with bright green eyes
Is suddenly purring there.

At first she pretends, having nothing to do,
She has come in merely to blink by the grate,
But, though tea may be late or the milk may be sour,
She is never late.

And presently her agate eyes
Take on a soft large milky haze,
And her independent casual glance
Becomes a stiff hard gaze.

Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears,
Or twists her tail and begins to stir,
Till suddenly all her lithe body becomes
One breathing trembling purr.

The children eat and wriggle and laugh;
The two old ladies stroke their silk:
But the cat is grown small and thin with desire,
Transformed to a creeping lust for milk.
The white saucer like some full moon descends
At last from the clouds of the table above:
She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows,
Transfigured with love.
She nestles over the shining rim,
Buries her chin in the creamy sea;
Her tail hangs loose; each drowsy paw
Is doubled under each bending knee.

A long dim ecstasy holds her life;
Her world is an infinite shapeless white,
Till her tongue has curled the last holy drop,
Then she sinks back into the night,

Draws and dips her body to heap
Her sleepy nerves in the great arm-chair,
Lies defeated and buried deep
Three or four hours unconscious there.
~ Harold Monro ~

Ode To A Cat

I think that I shall never see
A cat that sheds as much as thee
Thy fur that sticks is all around
On chairs, on mats in little mounds
I sweep the floor, you shed some more
I wash the rug and you just shrug
You should give thanks I tolerate that
Or you would be a crew cut cat.
~ Marea Needle ~

The following poem was written by a sweet little Scottish email friend of mine about her two little kittens:
My Two Kittens

I have 2 black cats
1 is thin and 1 is fat
And here are all the facts
number 1 is Choochee
number 2 is Tufts
Choochee is the thin one and Tufty is the fat
and I love them so much cause they are my cats
I have another called Charlie but he is a stray
their birthday is in June but that’s another day
so that is all the facts
that’s all that I can say
except that I love my cats
~ Jillian Cassidy ~
Dundee, Scotland
age 8 (1997)

Purr-fectly Contented

When the housework is done,
It’s time to sit and rest.
She climbs upon my lap,
And cuddles on my chest.

She purrs and nudges softly,
Her head rubs back and forth.
A tail swishes in my face,
Her tongue is very coarse.

She stays until she’s finished,
Then jumps down on the floor.
She roams around my feet and legs,
And really wants some more.

She knows just what she needs,
And lets you know it too.
So persistant is her way,
You cannot make her choose.

She is a pet and a friend,
A companian when alone.
Her presence makes me happy,
She makes our house a home.
~ Clara Ashmore ~

Summer Cat

“Please feed my cat,” he petted her, and grinned
“Be back for her real soon, when we get settled in.
Don’t get me wrong, I love that cat
but I’ve got to be a diplomat
My wife seems to have developed an aversion
for ordinary cats since she got a Persian.”

We discerned he would not return,
a summer cat, we would learn
Abandoned at the summer’s end,
forced for itself to fend
left to roam in streets and yards
where a cat must always keep its guard.

Despite the five cats in our place
that crowded us, not much space.
Once again, we had drifted
into benefactors, as when we were gifted
with a litter brought to our door
in Mystic Isle, where we lived before.
That was how it seemed to tally
so we fed her, named her Maui.
We would adopt her, that inner voice
told us we had no other choice.

Maui, who had just been spurned,
had other plans, we soon learned.
She’d disappear for a day, or week,
making us play hide-go-seek.
Until one day the game was over,
she came to us a bloody rover
lacerated, eyes all scratched,
we did our best to get her patched.
A vet told us he was afraid
that our cat had feline AIDS.

He said, “Don’t wait, terminate her,
save the trouble of doing it later.”
The charm this little cat possessed
touched our hearts, I must confess.
We took her in; it didn’t elate her
when we had to isolate her.
Not much fun was in store,
one little window and a door
where paws of other cats disclosed
their presence, but the door was closed.

We tried to make her feel secure
but life had lost much of its lure,
dejected, she would lie and dream
of all the things she once esteemed.
Our help was futile, defeat disguised
not what Maui once had prized
But fate sometimes will guide and grace us
it lead us to a great oasis,
where skill and love would brighten days
that lay ahead, just like a maze.

Now Maui’s new life had begun
with new friends, napping in the sun,
on a porch, where she could see
the sun was where it used to be,
and a little cat-size door,
so the house she could explore
But the affliction took its toll
she lost her balance and control,
but never lost Lynn’s loving care
her empathy was always there
Bunny and Clyde, her steadfast friends
stayed close beside until the end.
~ Pauline Comanor ~, author of Moon Traveler

The Duel

The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
‘Twas half past twelve, and, what do you think,
Neither of them had slept a wink!
And the old Dutch clock and Chinese plate
Seemed to know, as sure as fate,
There was going to be an awful spat.
(I wasn’t there — I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate.)

The gingham dog went “bow-wow-wow!”
And the calico cat replied “me-ow?”
And the air was streaked for an hour or so
With fragments of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind, I’m simply telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true.)

The Chinese plate looked very blue
And wailed; “Oh, dear, what shall we do!”
But the gingham dog and the calico cat,
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
And utilized every tooth and claw
In the awfulest way you ever saw -
And Oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don’t think that I exaggerate -
I got my news from the Chinese plate.)

Next morning where the two had sat,
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think to this day
That burglars stole that pair away;
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is that they ate each other up -
Now, what do you really think of that?
(The old Dutch clock it told me so
And that is how I came to know.)
~ Eugene Field ~

Cat Kisses

Sandpaper kisses
on a cheek or a chin-
that is the way
for a day to begin!

Sandpaper kisses-
a cuddle and a purr.
I have an alarm clock
that’s covered in fur!
~ Bobbi Katz ~

Thomas o’ Malley

Thomas o’ Malley is a ginger tabby
with sleek body that’s not flabby
He was somehow, by persons unknown,
discarded, but with us found a home.
He has lazy green eyes and pink nose
always sitting in comfortable pose.

Thomas is not just an ordinary good cat,
at times he’s worse than a stinking rat.
He talks to his human in various sounds
as they, in the garden, do their rounds.
He has his comments and criticisms
of the layout, watering and schisms.

Thomas is a connoiseur and taster of food
as he’ll not eat if not in the right mood.
He looks with disdain on the other cats
as they scramble for cookie rats.
He’ll have fish biscuits, if you please,
not on the floor in the dirt and fleas.
~ Dr. J A Vorster ~

A Cat’s Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep,
The king-size bed is soft and deep…
I sleep right in the center groove
My human can hardly move!

I’ve trapped her legs, she’s tucked in tight
And here is where I pass the night
No one disturbs me or dares intrude
Till morning comes and “I want food!”

I sneak up slowly to begin
My nibbles on my human’s chin.
She wakes up quickly, I have sharp teeth -
And my claws I will unsheath

For the morning’s here and it’s time to play
I always seem to get my way.
So thank you Lord for giving me
This human person that I see.

The one who hugs me and holds me tight
And sacrifices her bed at night.
~ Author Unknown ~

Why Own a Cat?

There’s a danger you know.
You can’t own just one, for the craving will grow.
There’s no doubt they’re addictive, wherein lies the danger
While living with lots, you’ll grow poorer and stranger
One cat is not trouble, and two are so funny,
The third one is easy, the fourth one’s a honey
The fifth is delightful, the sixth ones’s a breeze.
You find you can live with a houseful, with ease.
So how ’bout another? Would you really dare?
They’re really quite easy, but Oh Lord, the hair!
With cats on the sofa and cats on the bed,
And crates in the kitchen, its no bother, you said.
They’re really no trouble, their manners are great.
What’s just one more cat and one more little crate?
The sofa is hairy, the windows are crusty.
The floor is all footprints, the furniture’s dusty.
The housekeeping suffers, but what do you care?
Who minds a few noseprints and a little more hair?
So let’s keep a kitten, you can always find room.
And a little more time for the dust cloth and broom.
There’s hardly a limit to the cats you can add
The thought of a cutback, sure makes you feel sad.
Each one is special, so useful, so funny,
The food bill grows larger, you owe the vet money.
Your folks never visit, few friends come to stay,
Except other cat folks, who live the same way.
Your lawn has now died and your shrubs are dead, too.
Your weekends are busy, you’re off with your crew.
There’s cat food and vitamins, grooming and shots
And litter and toys and more, all which cost lots.
Is it worth it you wonder? Are you caught in a trap?
Then that favorite comes up and climbs in your lap.
His look says you’re special and you know that you will
Keep all of the kittens in spite of the bill.
Late evening is awful, you scream and you shout
At the cats on the sofa, who refuse to get up.
The whole thing seems worth it, the cats are your life.
They’re charming and funny and offset the strife.
Your lifestyle has changed, things just won’t be the same.
Yes, those cats are addictive and so’s the cat game!
~ Author Unknown ~

My Cat Friends

My home is where my feet touch
My bed is what’s under me when I’m sleepy
My food is anything that tastes good.
My friends are whom I choose.

The night is my safety, the day is my warmth.
I’m proud but not vain. Simple things delight me.

I love to be loved, but love when I choose.
I adapt very quickly, but prefer my routine.
I am curious to a fault.
I am beautiful, and I’m clean, and I know it.

My soft voice can comfort, my anger is clear.
I practice my agility so none can compare.
I am what I am, and I would be no other,
I am cat! And that’s that!
~ Greg Moore ~

They will not go quietly,
the cats who’ve shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know
their spirit still survive.
Old habits still make us think
we hear a meow at the door.
Or step back when we drop
a tasty morsel on the floor.
Our feet still go around the place
the food dish used to be,
And, sometimes, coming home at night,
we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends
and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts
belongs to them….
and always will.
~ Linda Barnes ~

To A Cat

Stately, kindly, lordly friend
Here to sit by me, and turn
Glorious eyes that smile and burn,
Golden eyes, love’s lustrous meed,
On the golden page I read.

All your wondrous wealth of hair
Dark and fair,
Silken-shaggy, soft and bright
As the clouds and beams of night,
Pays my reverent hand’s caress
Back with friendlier gentleness.

Dogs may fawn on all and some
As they come;
You, a friend of loftier mind,
Answer friends alone in kind.
Just your foot upon my hand
Softly bids it understand.
~ A. C. Swinburne ~


have eyes that yawn,
as a halt sign.

In morse-tail
they speak your mind,

loving you
to fur-deep
~ Jim Howell ~

My Cat

My cat walks slowly through the house,
measuring each step,
examining the nooks and crannys,
and I can almost visualize,
the crown of diamonds on her head,
the purple velvet cape
trimmed with ermine
trailing behind her.

When I call her name,
she lifts her tail
in acknowledgment,
telling me she heard me
but continuing her noble walk.

When she naps on my chest
and gives me a lick,
I feel privileged indeed
to share my life
with a cat.
~ Natasha Josefowitz, Ph.D. ~


Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
Cats, when they sleep, slump;
When they wake, pull in -
And where the plump’s been
There’s skin.
Cats walk thin.

Cats wait in a lump,
Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin-
They have technique.
Oh, cats don’t creak.
They sneak.

Cats sleep fat.
They spread comfort beneath them
Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place
And then sat.
You walk around one
As if he were City Hall
After that.

If male,
A cat is apt to sing upon a major scale:
This concert is for everybody, this
Is wholesale.
For a baton, he wields a tail.

(He is also found,
When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)

A cat condenses.
He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences.
Cats fit
In any box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one,
He could arch over it.

When everyone else is just ready to go out,
The cat is just ready to come in,
He’s not where he’s been.
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
~ Rosalie Moore ~

A Tribute to Scarlett, the Brooklyn calico who rescued her five four week old kittens from a fiercely burning building on March 30, 1996. Nearly a month later, one male kitten died due to a virus and major complications from the fire. For three months, Scarlett and her other four kittens healed before all were adopted to loving homes.
From A Heroine

Why is everyone so surprised
That I saved my furry five;
That in spite of pain and danger
I brought them out alive?
True my eyes were barely open
But I heard their frantic wails;
Through smoke and flames I saw
Scorched ears and burning tails.
Every trip was a burdened choice
But I could make no other.
The rescuers have called me cat -
But I am also “mother.”
~ Rosemary Asmussen ~

A Kitten

He’s nothing much but fur
And two round eyes of blue,
He has a giant purr
And a midget mew.

He darts and pats the air,
He starts and cocks his ear,
When there is nothing there
For him to see and hear.

He runs around in rings
But why we cannot tell;
With sideways leaps he springs
At things invisible-

Then half-way through a leap
His startled eyeballs close,
And he drops off to sleep
With one paw on his nose.
~ Eleanor Farjeon ~


My pussycat sings his song to me.
He always sings at half past three.
He sings of tins of tuna fish,
And chicken pieces in a dish,
And when my pussycat’s sung to me,
I go to get my pussycat’s tea.

Always be kind to your pussycat,
Whatever he may do.
Your pussycat loves you and always will,
Your pussycat’s faithful and true.
~ David Harper ~

The Tom Cat

At midnight in the alley
A Tom-cat comes to wail,
And he chants the hate of a million years
As he swings his snaky tail.

Malevolent, bony, brindled,
Tiger and devil and bard,
His eyes are coals from the middle of Hell
And his heart is black and hard.

He twists and crouches and capers
And bares his curved sharp claws,
And he sings to the stars of the jungle nights,
Ere cities were, or laws.

Beasts from a world primeval,
He and his leaping clan,
When the blotched red moon leers over the roofs,
Give voice to their scorn of man.

He will lie on a rug tomorrow
And lick his silky fur,
And veil the brute in his yellow eyes
And play he’s tame, and purr.

But at midnight in the alley
He will crouch again and wail,
And beat the time for his demon’s song.
With the swing of his demon’s tail.
~ Don Marquis ~

Cats are Wonderful Friends

Gentle eyes that see so much,
paws that have the quiet touch,
Purrs to signal “all is well”
and show more love than words could tell.
Graceful movements touched with pride,
a calming presence by our side –
A friendship that takes time to grow –
Small wonder why we love them so.
~ Author Unknown ~

Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat

There’s a whisper down the line at 11:39
When the Night Mail’s ready to depart,
Saying ‘Skimble where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble?
We must find him or the train can’t start.’
All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster’s daughters
They are searching high and low,
Saying ‘Skimble where is Skimble for unless he’s very nimble
Then the Night Mail just can’t go.’
At 11:42 then the signal’s nearly due
And the passengers are frantic to a man -
Then Skimble will appear and he’ll saunter to the rear:
He’s been busy in the luggage van!
He gives one flash of his glass-green eyes
And the signal goes ‘All Clear!’
And we’re off at last for the northern part
Of the Northern Hemisphere!

You may say that by and large it is Skimble who’s in charge
Of the Sleeping Car Express.
From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards
He will supervise them all, more or less.
Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces
Of the travellers in the First and in the Third;
He establishes control by a regular patrol
And he’d know at once if anything occurred.
He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking
And it’s certain that he doesn’t approve
Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet
When Skimble is about and on them ove.
You can play no pranks with Skimbleshanks!
He’s a Cat that cannot be ignored;
So nothing goes wrong on the Northern Mail
When Skimbleshanks is aboard.

Oh it’s very pleasant when you have found your little den
With your name written up on the door.
And the berth is very neat with a newly folded sheet
And there’s not a speck of dust on the floor.
There is every sort of light – you can make it dark or bright;
There’s a button that you turn to make a breeze.
There’s a funny little basin you’re supposed to wash your face in
And a crank to shut the window if you sneeze.
Then the guard looks in politely and will ask you very brightly
‘Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?’
But Skimble’s just behind him and was ready to remind him,
For Skimble won’t let anything go wrong.
And when you creep into your cosy berth
And pull up the counterpane,
You are bound to admit that it’s very nice
To know that you won’t be bothered by mice -
You can leave all that to the Railway Cat,
The Cat of the Railway Train!

In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright;
Every now and then he has a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he’s keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew
That he was walking up and down the station;
You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,
Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.
But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police
If there’s anything they ought to know about:
When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait -
For Skimbleshanks will help you to get out!
He gives you a wave of his long brown tail
Which says: ‘I’ll see you again!
You’ll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail
The Cat of the Railway Train.’
~ T.S. Eliot ~

The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
~ William Butler Yeats ~

The Kitten and the Falling Leaves

See the Kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves – one-two-and three -
From the lofty elder-tree!
Though the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending,
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute
In his wavering parachute.

But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
First at one, and then its fellow
Just as light and just as yellow.
There are many now – now one -
Now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half-way
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Where her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd?
~ William Wordsworth ~

A Cat’s Life

There’s a black cat sleeping by the fire,
Sleeping peacefully on a velvet rug,
The moon shines with a silvery glow,
It brings little light through the small window,
But the cat is happy at peace and content,
Slowly rises the sun, gradually she climbs the sky,
Bringing light to the world,
The cat wakes hearing the bird’s sweet song,
He watches a mouse scamper across the floor,
He crouches, his tail swishes from side to side,
The mouse looks up and gives a small squeak,
But the cat is so strong and the mouse is too weak,
The poor mouse is now no more,
Except for her tail that lays on the floor,
This routine is kept daily,
But the cat’s growing old,
He can’t keep it up much more,
The winter is cold and the wind brings a chill,
But the cat lays by the fire as always he will,
The fire is now out but the cat is still there,
The moon may not shine,
And the sun may not rise,
But the cat remains there,
By the fire.
~ Holly Workman – Westerham, Kent, England – age 11 ~

The One-Fang Gang

Like soldiers at the Cenotaph
The one-fang gang stands tall
And woe betide you if you laugh
For they have seen it all.

Old Buster, Bruiser, Billy-Boy,
And Thomas, Tinker, Ted,
Have fought with tigers in their time
And scared them half to death.

Now some have just the upper right
And some the bottom left;
While others have a gummy grin
And dribble down their chests.

Though years have gone, and also teeth,
Those boys dream on undaunted;
But in those dreams of past campaigns
Full sets of teeth are flaunted.
~ Heather Smith ~

Calling in the Cat

Now from the dark, a deeper dark,
The cat slides,
Furtive and aware,
His eyes still shine with meteor spark
The cold dew weights his hair.
Hesitant, he comes
Stepping morosely from the night,
Held but repelled,
By lamp and firelight.

Now call your blandest,
Offer up
The sacrifice of meat,
And snare the wandering soul with greeds,
Give him to drink and eat,
And he shall walk fastidiously
Into the trap of old
On feet that still smell delicately
Of withered ferns and mould.
~ Elizabeth Coatsworth ~

The trouble with a kitten is THAT
Eventually it becomes a CAT.
~ Ogden Nash ~

Let take a cat, and foster him well with milk
And tender flesh and make his couch of silk,
And let him see a mouse go by the wall,
Anon he waveth milk and flesh and all,
And every dainty that is in that house,
Such appetite he hath to eat a mouse.
~ Chaucer ~

Pussy will rub my knees with her head
Pretending she loves me hard;
But the very minute I go to bed
Pussy runs out in the yard…
~ Rudyard Kipling ~

In Honour of Taffy Topaz

Taffy, the topaz-coloured cat,
Thinks now of this and now of that,
But chiefly on his meals.
Asparagus, and cream, and fish,
Are objects of his Freudian wish;
What you don’t give, he steals.

His amiable amber eyes
Are very friendly, very wise;
Like Buddha, grave and fat,
He sits, regardless of applause,
And thinking, as he kneads his paws,
What fun to be a cat!
~ Christopher Morley ~

On A Cat Aging

He blinks upon the hearth-rug
And yawns in deep content,
Accepting all the comforts
That Providence has sent.

Louder he purrs and louder,
In one glad hymn of praise
For all the night’s adventures,
For quiet, restful days.

Life will go on forever,
With all that cat can wish;
Warmth, and the glad procession
Of fish and milk and fish.

Only the thought distrubs him -
He’s noticed once or twice,
That times are somehow breeding
A nimbler race of mice.
~ Sir Alexander Gray ~

Cats sleep
Any table,
Any chair,
Top of piano,
In the middle,
On the edge.
~ Eleanor Farjeon ~

Stray Cat

Dear God, please send me somebody who’ll care.
I’m so tired of running and sick with despair.
My body is aching and filled with such pain;
And dear God I pray, as I run in the rain
That someone will love me and give me a home,
A warm cozy bed, and food of my own.
My last owner left me alone in the yard…
I watched as they moved, and God that was hard.
So I waited a while, then went on my way
To rummage in garbage and live as a stray.
But now, God, I’m so tired and hungry and cold;
And I’m so afraid that I’ll never grow old.
They’ve chased me with sticks and hit me with straps
While I run the streets just looking for scraps.
I’m not really bad, God, please help if you can,
For I have become just a “Victim of Man.”
I’m wormy, dear God, and I’m ridden with fleas;
And all that I want is an Owner to please.
If you find one for me, God, I’ll try to be good.
I won’t scratch the carpet; I’ll do as I should.
I’ll love them, play with them, and try to obey.
I will be so grateful if they’ll let me stay.
I don’t think I’ll make it too long on my own,
‘Cause I’m getting weak and I’m so all alone.
Each night as I sleep in the bushes I cry,
‘Cause I’m so afraid, God, that I’m gonna die.
I’ve got so much love and devotion to give
That I should be given a new chance to Live.
So dear God, please hear me, please answer my prayer,
And send me somebody who will REALLY care.
~ Author Unknown ~

What Is A Cat?

Gentle eyes
that see so much,
paws that have
the quiet touch.

Purrs to signal
“all is well”
and show more love
than words can tell.

Graceful movements
touched with pride,
a calming presence
by our side.

A friendship
that will last and grow -
small wonder
why we love them so.
~ Author Unknown ~


Little kitten loves the evening time
When midges whoop and holler over the lawn.
She skulks out from the greenwood
To sway in ballet as she chases the beast.
The sun long gone and the dark not yet there
But soon the efluorescent electric light
Will grandstand her sallies up in the air.
Long white hair sucking out the surrounding black
As for the first time in the day she busies herself.
She sleeps from morn to night
And only arouses herself to digest her tea.
She is a luxury cat,
A scrumptious ball of fluff,
Who hunts phantasms at evening.
~ Douglas Clark ~

The Song of the Jellicles

Jellicle Cats come out to-night
Jellicle Cats come one come all:
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright -
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,
Jellicle Cats are rather small;
Jellicle Cats are merry and bright,
And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul.
Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces,
Jellicle Cats have bright black eyes;
They like to practise their airs and graces
And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise.

Jellicle Cats develop slowly,
Jellicle Cats are not too big;
Jellicle Cats are roly-poly,
They know how to dance a gavotte and a jig.
Until the Jellicle Moon appears
They make their toilette and take their repose:
Jellicle Cats wash behind their ears,
Jellicle dry between their toes.

Jellicle Cats are white and black,
Jellicle Cats are of moderate size;
Jellicle Cats jump like a jumping-jack,
Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes.
They’re quitet enough in the morning hours,
They’re quitet enough in the afternoon,
Reserving their terpsichorean powers
To dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,
Jellicle Cats (as I said) are small;
If it happends to be a stormy night
They will practise a caper or two in the hall.
If it happens the sun is shining bright
You would say they had nothing to do at all:
They are resting and saving themselves to be right
For the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball.
~ T.S. Eliot ~

The Mysterious Cat

I saw a proud, mysterious cat
I saw a proud, mysterious cat,
Too proud to catch a mouse or rat-
Mew, mew, mew.

But catnip she would eat, and purr,
But catnip she would eat, and purr.
And goldfish she did much prefer-
Mew, mew, mew.

I saw a cat – ’twas but a dream,
I saw a cat – ’twas but a dream
Who scorned the slave that brought her cream-
Mew, mew, mew.

Unless the slave were dressed in style,
Unless the slave were dressed in style
And knelt before her all the while-
Mew, mew, mew.

Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
Oh, what a proud mysterious cat.
Oh, what a proud mysterious cat.
Oh, what a proud mysterious cat.
Mew … mew … mew.
~ Vachel Lindsay ~

Cat’s Prayer

I hope I’m not asking too much, Lord;
All I want is a home of my own,
And to know when my next meal is coming
Instead of the scraps I get thrown.

I’ve been out in the cold for so long now,
Just coping as best as I can;
But it’s not been so long I’ve forgotten
The touch of a soft caring hand.

I look in house windows at Christmas,
As cats doze by the fire, quite replete;
How I’d welcome a box in the kitchen,
And tasty food for me to eat.

For me there was tinsel and giftwrap,
But the fun didn’t last very long.
They put me outside with the rubbish;
I still don’t know what I did wrong.

I really don’t want to be greedy;
At the moment I’m all skin and bone,
So would it be too much to hope for
That someone will give me a home?
~ Author Unknown ~

Cat Owner’s Prayer

Because I’m only human,
It’s sometimes hard to be
The wise, all-knowing creature
That my cat expects of me.

And so I pray for special help
To somehow understand
The subtle implications
Of each proud meowed command.

Oh, let me not forget that chairs
Were put on earth to shred;
And what I like to call a lap
Is actually a bed.

I know it’s really lots to ask
But please, oh please, take pity;
And though I’m only human,
Make me worthy of my kitty!
~ Author Unknown ~

Lend Me A Kitten

I will lend to you for awhile a kitten, God said.
For you to love while he lives, and mourn when he’s dead.
Maybe for twelve or fourteen years, or maybe two or three.
But will you, ’till I call him back, take care of him for me?

He’ll bring his charms to gladden you and, should his stay be brief
You’ll always have his memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught below I want this kitten to learn.

I’ve looked the whole world over in search of teachers true.
And from the folk that crowds life’s land I have chosen you.
Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labor vain?
Nor hate me when I come to take my kitten home again?

I fancied that I heard them say ‘Dear Lord Thy Will Be Done’
For all the joys this kitten brings the risk of grief we’ll run.
We’ll shelter him with tenderness, we’ll love him while we may.
And for the happiness we’ve known, forever grateful stay.

But should you call him back much sooner than we planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand.
If, by our love we’ve managed your wishes to achieve,
Then in memory of him whom we loved, please help us while we grieve.
When our cherished kitten departs this world of strife,
Please send yet another needing soul for us to love all his life.
~ Author Unknown ~

Gray Thrums

Which is the cosiest voice,
The piping droning noise
When the kettle hums,
Or this little old-fashioned wheel
Spinning gray thrums?

Gray thrums! What wheel, you ask,
Turns at such pleasant task
With a soft whirr?
Why, the one in pussy’s throat
That makes her purr.

Listen the rippling sound,
And think how round and round
The spindle goes,
As the drowsy thread she spins
Drowsily grows.

What will she do with it
When it is finished? Knit
Some mittens new?
Or shuttle it, and weave cloth
As weavers do?

A funny idea that,
A spinning wheel in a cat!
Yet how it hums!
Our puss is gray, so of course
She spins gray thrums.
~ Clara Doty Bates ~

The Christmas Kitten

I once was a cuddly kitten,
But now I am a stray,
‘Cause when I was no longer fluffy,
They sent me on my way.

They’ve kept their big watchdog,
As he can bark and growl,
But I could fly at strangers,
If I caught them on the prowl.

I slink around their garbage can;
I mew outside their door;
But it’s clear from their behaviour,
They don’t want me anymore.

Now I’m cold and hungry,
And getting very thin,
What have I done to hurt them,
Why won’t they let me in?

I crouch in sheds and boxes,
In my bedraggle fur,
So shivery and dejected,
I cannot even purr.

They have another kitten,
Their children’s whole delight;
But probably next Christmas,
It will share my wretched plight.
~ Author Unknown ~

A Kitten

He’s nothing much but fur
And two round eyes of blue,
He has a giant purr
And a midget mew.

He darts and pats the air,
He starts and cocks his ear,
When there is nothing there
For him to see and hear.

He runs around in rings,
But why we cannot tell;
With sideways leaps he springs
At things invisible -

Then half-way through a leap
His startled eyeballs close,
And he drops off to sleep With one paw on his nose.
~ Eleanor Farjeon ~


Little cats walk with their tails up.
Happy, they are afraid of nothing.
They will hiss at a big dog or a big person,
Not to defend themselves,
But to show their spirit.
~ Martha Baird ~


Puss loves man’s winter fire
Now that the sun so soon
Leaves the hours cold it warmed
In burning June.

She purrs full length before
The heaped-up hissing blaze,
Drowsy in slumber down
Her head she lays.

While he with whom she dwells
Sits snug in his inglenook,
Stretches his legs to the flame
And reads his book.
~ Walter De La Mare ~

A Cat in My Lap

I know I have a lot to do,
So many things – see them through.
There are clothes to clean, grass to mow,
Cookies to bake, seeds to sow.
But I really can’t do all these things in a snap.
Because, you see, there’s a cat in my lap.

He stretches and rolls and gives me a wink,
From his sleepy gold eyes – just a small blink.
I smooth his long tail and tickle his tummy,
He yawns and purrs to tell me that’s yummy.
The telephone rings. The paper boy taps.
No move do I make. There’s a cat in my lap.

Bright sunlight dances across the floor,
To warm my small friend just a bit more.
A happy prisoner am I in my chair -
Some moments of peace – not a care.
I think I’ll take a little nap,
With this soft, furry ball, a cat in my lap.
~ Karen Boxell ~

The Cat and The Moon

The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new place.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.
~ W.B. Yeats ~

The Robber Kitten

A kitten once to its mother said:
“I’ll never more be good,
But I’ll go and be a robber fierce,
and live in a dreary wood.
Wood, wood, wood,
And live in a dreary wood.”

So off it went to the dreary wood,
And there it met a cock,
And blew its head, with a pistol, off
Which gave it an awful shock.
Shock, shock, shock,
Which gave it an awful shock.

Soon after that it met a cat.
“Now give me your purse,
Or I’ll shoot you through, and stab you too,
And kill you, which is worse.
Worse, worse, worse,
And kill you, which is worse.”

It climbed a tree to rob a nest
Of young and tender owls;
But the branch broke off, and the kitten fell
With two tremendous howls.
Howls, howls, howls,
With two tremendous howls.

One day it met a Robber Dog,
And they sat down to drink;
The dog did joke, and laugh and sing,
Which made the kitten wink.
Wink, wink, wink,
Which made the kitten wink.

At last they quarrelled; then they fought,
Beneath the greenwood tree,
Till puss was felled with an awful club,
Most terrible to see.
See, see, see,
Most terrible to see.

When puss got up, its eye was shut,
And swelled, and black and blue;
Moreover, all its bones were sore,
So it began to me.
Mew, mew, mew,
So it began to mew.

Then up it rose, and scratched its nose,
And went home very sad;
“Oh mother dear, behold me here;
I’ll never more be bad.
Bad, bad, bad,
I’ll never more be bad.”
~ R. M. Ballantyne ~

The Naming of Cats

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey -
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter -
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum -
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover -
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
~ T.S. Eliot ~

Do You Know Me?

Why do you look at me in that forlorn way?
Are you cold and hungry in this winter’s day?
Why do you gaze with tears in your clear green eyes,
They are so translucent under the matching skies.

You look so familiar, like someone I know,
But sadly, last year, he had to go.
He burrowed deep into my heart,
Made me cry when we had to part.

He invaded my home, when he had no right,
Yet I had to give in to those eyes so bright.
They were like yours, a pearly green,
With the deepest aura that I’ve seen.

He did things wrong but I didn’t mind,
The will to throw him out, I couldn’t find,
He wasn’t perfect, and I liked him for that,
And I tried to correct him as we sat.

But he was so stubborn, so determined and willed,
I dearly missed his encouragement when he was killed.
Are you his spirit, here to haunt me again?
And die once more and cause me pain?

Well, if him you cannot be,
Why do you look as if you know me?
And the night we met, he too, was ragged and thin,
Miserable and abused near the garbage bin.

If you think I would adopt and care for you,
And then rear you up faithful and true,
Then only to lose another life once again,
You’re right, so don’t just stand there, come on in!
~ Author Unknown ~

Why Sarab Loves Me

Sarab is a lovely cat –
On my lap she sat and sat
Why she loves me I don’t know unless -
I give her food six times a day,
I stroke her fur and talk to her
Considerate in every way
I always do what she prefers -
Come to think of it I know
Why Sarab does love me so.
~ Rachel A. Gold ~

The Singing Cat

It was a little captive cat
Upon a crowded train
His mistress takes him from his box
To ease his fretful pain.

She holds him tight upon her knee
The graceful animal
And all the people look at him
He is so beautiful.

But oh he pricks and oh he prods
And turns upon her knee
Then lifteth up his innocent voice
In plaintive melody.

He lifteth up his innocent voice
He lifteth up, he singeth
And to each human countenance
A smile of grace he bringeth.

He lifteth up his innocent paw
Upon her breast he clingeth
And everybody cries, Behold
The cat, the cat that singeth.

He lifteth up his innocent voice
He lifteth up, he singeth
And all the people warm themselves
In the love his beauty bringeth.
~ Stevie Smith ~

A Certain Wisdom

You curl the silence of your sleep,
One velvet paw curved like a shell
Scooping an intrinsic substance
To cover your eyes.
I watch you in your world
And I grow wise.

You are a golden flash
That singles itself in shadows.
You carve your domain
From fence to house
Then gather the rooms about you
For your own.
Each of your days is a world.

You do not look back on yesterday
Nor do you anticipate tomorrow.
You live the present intensified
In its own way,
And trust my every circling of your world.
~ Ruth Munch ~

The Awakening

A tickle tongue
Between my toes
Kitty whiskers
Up my nose
Softly punching
Furry feet
Wake me from
My morning sleep
~ Frank Llloyd Kramer ~

St. Jerome’s Cat

St. Jerome in his study kept a great big cat,
It’s always in his pictures, with its feet upon the mat.
Did he give it milk to drink, in a little dish?
When it came to Fridays, did he give it fish?

If I lost my little cat, I’d be sad without it;
I should ask St. Jeremy what to do about it;
I should ask St. Jeremy, just because of that,
For he’s the only saint I know who kept a kitty cat.
~ Author Unknown ~


I have a white cat whose name is Moon;
He eats catfish from a wooden spoon,
And sleeps till five each afternoon.

Moon goes out when the moon is bright
And sycamore trees are spotted white
To sit and stare in the dead of night.

Beyond still water cries a loon,
Through mulberry leaves peers a wild baboon
And in Moon’s eyes I see the moon.
~ William Jay Smith ~

Soft, sleek, short haired, or fluffy.
Eyes filled with wisdom and mischief.
From running with grace and stealth,
To walking with a regal, and proud gate.
Tail swishing back and forth as thoughts unknown float thru a quick wit.
A surprise pounce and purring growl and then your lap is taken over.
Playful yet serious is this creature we call a Cat!
~ Cassa A. Dellinger ~

The Rum Tum Tugger

The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he’d rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he’d rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat–
And there isn’t any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He’s always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he’s at home, then he’d like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can’t get out.

Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat–
And there isn’t any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn’t any fish then he won’t eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;

So you’ll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn’t care for a cuddle;
But he’ll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there’s nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat–
And there isn’t any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!
~ T.S. Elliot ~

A Serious Question

A kitten went a-walking
One moring in July
And idly fell a-talking
With a great big butterfly.

The kitten’s tone was airy,
The butterfly would scoff;
When there came along a fairy
Who whisked his wings right off.

And then, – for it is written
Fairies can do such things,
Upon the startled kitten
She stuck the yellow wings.

The kitten felt a quiver,
She rose into the air,
Then flew down the river
To view her image there.

With fear her heart was smitten,
And she began to cry:
“Am I a butter-kitten?
Or just a kitten-fly?”
~ Carolyn Wells ~

Angel of the Night

I know my cat’s an angel
For she watches over me.
Slyly, when her eyes seem shut;
At night, when I can’t see.

I know my cat’s an angel
For her ears protect my sleep.
A creak, a squeak, a footfall;
At any noise she’ll leap.

I know my cat’s an angel
For she curls up at my side;
A warning to intruders
That it’s best to run and hide.

I know my cat’s an angel
For although she hasn’t wings
I’m safe and warm beside her,
Wrapped in all the love she brings.
~ Nancy Joseph ~

Beware! (A Limerick)

I once knew a cat who would play,
In a most lackadaisical way.
‘Til one day a mouse
Made a home in Cat’s house
Now a sign says, “Rent by the Day.”

Master teased, “You’re lazy and fat!
I’m sure you’ll get caught by a rat!”
Kitty’s smile was grim,
As she stared up at him,
Eyes asking, “Are you sure of that?”

“I may look like a fat, tame cat,
Who’s afraid of a big old rat,
But put one in my home
Who thinks here he’ll roam,
And he’ll DIE in two seconds flat!”
~ Doris M. Kneppel ~

Dear Friend

A tiny creature, eyes still shut
Small body all a-tremble
I looked down and I knew
I had a friend.

Soon your blue eyes, so laser sharp,
Peered out of your sweet face.
I understood each plaintive cry,
And knew in my deepest heart
We were friends.

You purred and nestled in my arms.
Your devotion beamed up at me
As I whispered in your ear,
My dreams, my hopes, my fears.
Friends forever would we be.

But fate gave us just a few short years.
Your time too short did end.
I held you close, my heart too full,
As I begged you not to leave.
As death drew the final curtain
I cried, “Farewell, my sweet, dear friend!”
You are in my heart forever.
~ Doris M. Kneppel ~

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