sipping coffee of a morn,
And contemplating on why I was born,
I watch the cat climb softly to my lap
To primp and preen, then settle down to nap.
As he begins to
wash his whiskery face
He will not keep his wandering tail in place.
And while it's waving wildly in the air
I try to track it down-it's never there.
It wiggles to
the left as I reach right
And rebounds again in rhythmic delight.
I resume my reaching as it rises up,
Then comes down to coil in my coffee cup.
The tabby turns
translucent eyes on me
As if to tell me, "There! now do you see?
If not for you my tail would still be dry.
Why can't you humans be as calm as I?"
caffeine off his copious fur,
He curls into a ball, begins to purr.
A call upon his dreams he plans to keep,
So he proceeds to promptly fall asleep.
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 Friday's, 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.
This Old Cat
I'm getting on
My coat is turning grey.
My eyes have lost their luster,
my hearing's just okay.
I spend my whole day dreaming
of conquests in my past,
lying near a sunny window.
Waiting for its warm repast.
I remember our first visit,
I was coming to you free,
hoping you would take me in
and keep me company.
I wasn't young or handsome,
two years I'd roamed the street.
There were scars upon my face,
I hobbled on my feet.
I could sense your disappointment
as I left my prison cage.
Oh , I hoped you would accept me
and look beyond my age.
you took me out of pity,
I accepted without shame.
Then you grew to love me,
and I admit the same.
I have shared with you your laughter,
You have wet my fur with tears.
We've come to know each other
Throughout these many years.
Just one more hug this morning
Before you drive away,
And know I'll think about you
Throughout your busy day.
The time we've left together
Is a treasured time at that.
My heart is yours forever.
I promise . . . This Old Cat.
The End of
On a night quite
When the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven,
In a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.
"Raven's very tasty," thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the
"There is nothing I like more"
Soft upon the rug I treaded,
calm and careful as I headed
Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered,
I made sure that nothing clattered,
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and wierd decor -
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.
Still the Raven never fluttered,
Standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered his two cents' worth -
While this dirge the birdbrain kept up,
Oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly lept up, pouncing on the feathered
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -
Only this and not much more.
"Oooo!" my pickled poet cried out,
"Pussycat, it's time I dried out!
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
How I've wallowed in self-pity,
While my gallant, valiant kitty
Put and end to that damned ditty" - then I heard him start
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped - and smashed it on the floor.
Edgar Allen Poe
The Cats of
There once were
two cats of Kilkenny,
Each thought thought there was one cat too many
So they fought and they fit,
And they scratched and they bit,
Till excepting their nails
And the tips of their tails,
Instead of two cats, there weren't any.
She had a name
among the children;
But no one loved though someone owned
Her, locked her out of doors at bedtime
And had her kittens duly drowned.
nevertheless, this cat
Ate blackbirds, thrushes, nightingales,
And birds of bright voice and plume and flight,
As well as scraps from neighbours' pails.
I loathed and
hated her for this;
One speckle on a thrush's breast
Was worth a million such; and yet
She lived long, till God gave her rest.
You have now
learned to see
That cats are much like you and me
And other people whom we find
Possessed of various types of mind.
coats are yellow; some amber streaked with dark;
No member of the feline race but has a special mark.
This one has feet with hoarfrost tipped; that one has tail that
Another's inky hide is striped; another's decked with pearls.
'Twas the night
and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse
'Cuz the cat had
pounced on him
and tore him apart -
Ate his mousey intestimes
and chewed up his heart.
Kitty thought he
which made him take pause-
He stopped daintily licking
the blood from his claws.
Santa," thought kitty
(that quite clever cat)
'Cuz nobody else climbs down
the chimney like that.
Indeed it was
so jolly and fat
With a huge load of presents
and all for the cat
best Christmas ever!"
Kitty thought with a purr,
Then he coughed up a hairball
and shed some more fur.
The Cat of
I am the cat of
cats, I am
The everlasting cat!
Cunning and old, and sleek as jam,
The everlasting cat!
I hunt the vermin in the night,
The everlasting cat!
For I see best without the light,
The everlasting cat!
A Plea for a
Would you care
for me, as I care for my cat?
Oh, I know she is treacherous
and her thoughts go no higher
Than mice and milk
and a place by my fir;
She is getting old and fat.
But when I sit alone in my evening chair,
I stroke her fur
I like to know she is there
and to hear her purr.
Of course, you could not care for me
I can not purr as flatteringly
as a cat.
Your footsteps pit-pat
In the hallway of my mind
The kiss of air, whisper-soft purr;
I hear the echos of your purr;
See your pouncing shadow everywhere....
And smile through my tears.
The big brave
Angel cat, folding a rainbow wing,
Stretched out his gentle paw
I'll find, purred he,
A kitten-- you were kind--
You must not grieve for me.
This one might do, this timid little stray
Terrestrial night to my celestial day;
It cannot take my place,
No other could do that,
But though you cannot bring me back, you might retrace
Remembrance in a kitten's pansy-face.
Buddicom, b. 1901, English Writer
a poem from
OLD POSSUM'S BOOK OF PRACTICAL 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 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, George, 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 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 Bambalurina 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 will not guess;
The name 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 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, "The Naming of Cats"
Hear our prayer
Lord, for all animals,
May they be well-fed and well-trained and happy;
Protect them from hunger and fear and suffering;
And, we pray, protect specially, dear Lord,
The little cat who is the companion of our home,
Keep her safe as she goes abroad,
And bring her back to comfort us.
On a cheek or a chin -
That is the way
for a day to begin!
A cuddle and a purr.
I have an alarm clock
That's covered in fur!
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'm sure I see those eyes,
I'm not so sure a body's there!
W. H. Davies
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!
Through the calm and frosty air, Of this morning bright and
--But the Kitten, how she starts; Crouches, stretches, paws,
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!
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 Conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart ...
Why Own a
There's a danger
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 entries and travel and motels, 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.
Some just for showing and some just to breed
And some just for loving, they all fill a need.
Late evening is awful, you scream and you shout
At the cats on the sofa, who refuse to get up.
The cats and the cat shows, the travel, the thrills
The work and the worry, the pressure, the bills.
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!