O Where Are You Going?
"O where are you going?" said purrer to paw-er,
"That cat-box is covered and where kittens learn,
Yonder's the litter which tickles the sitter,
That tray is the pan where the poopies return."
"O do you imagine," said fearball to furball,
"That dinner delays while you play in the grass,
Will purrsistent looking discover the lacking
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?"
"O what was that noise," said quitter to spitter,
"Was it cat flu or worse that you caught from that sneeze?
Behind you swiftly the beast's claws come softly,
Your bare patch of fur is the ringworm disease."
"Into my cat-tray" said paw-er to purrer,
"Dinner can wait" said furball to fearball,
"It's you looking ill" said spitter to quitter,
As he left them there, as he left them there.
Feral Cats (I Wandered Lonely as a Stray)
By William Wordsworth's Stray
Copyright 2007, Sarah Hartwell (with apologies to William Wordsworth)
I wandered lonely as a stray
That haunts the night in quiet stealth,
And hides in hedges by the day,
>From humans who would harm my health;
Beside the bins, beneath the stair,
I'm the feral shadow lurking there.
Precarious the life I eke,
The unseen raider of your scraps,
While owners rub the silken cheek,
Of pampered cats upon their laps,
While idle felines doze and thrive,
I am more vital, more alive.
The one who rhymes of flowers bright
That dance uncaring in the breeze,
If he would gaze into the night,
Might write of feral cats like me -
And how I dance bright-eyed and sing,
And woo the lady-cats in spring!
Who cares for golden daffodils?
They are no good to such as I,
A good plump mouse my belly fills,
And oestrus queans will catch my eye -
My feral heart with pleasure fills,
For cats care not for daffodils!