Tag Archives: cat

The Parrot and the Cat

Parrot and Cat

sat still upon the mat,

that they ‘had’ been told to stay on ;

Parrot had grumbled about it,

Cat had just relaxed,

‘It is what it is.’ said the Cat,

and nonchalantly taxed herself not a bit.

The Parrot went over all the things he would say,

when released from the confines, they were;

he’d many a fine word,

that at odd times he had heard,

that would embarrass a mangy old cur.

.

However, Cat was soft,

and began to purr,

so Parrot lay down beside her;

and, soon, they were softly snoring,

happily, a thing upon which the both of them could concur.

The Cat’ and the Apostrophe

The Cat’ and the Apostrophe

was never going to end well.

It must be cool to be a cat

A lazy life,

A lazy life

without a job to do,

coming and going as one pleases;

no clothes to wear,

no worries to share,

and the surprise when one just sneezes;

.

pottering in the garden,

pottering in the garden,

lounging on the lawn,

tiny Tiger, preys the land

from dusk to early dawn.

‘How to worm a cat.’

“So, you have to worm your cat?

well, the best of luck with that!”

Thinking inside of the box

Cat would have liked to be thinking outside of the box for a change; thinking inside the box was not all that it had promised to be. But, the promise of a cardboard box to a cat is a wondrous thing – ask any cat.

However, when tired of the box, it should be an easy option for a cat to leave the box, and seek a warm spot in the house.

Not, as has happened to me, to be securely sealed into the box for the sake of a hypothetical experiment.

Who said that people should have pets? And, who said that people who have pets should look after them?

I know it’s not my place to complain (but, I will) but, I do not think that Mr. Schrödinger should have been allowed to keep pets.

I think therefore I am. I have needs and a desire to roam freely. My well-being is ‘not’ being helped by my incarceration in a cardboard box – and I am now well fed up with it.

“What does a poet need?”

It is said that ‘some poets’

find inspiration in a bottle;

but, in my case,

I do not need the Demon drink;

I think

outside of the box,

like the canny fox

who declined a job offer

from Erwin Schrödinger,

and was pleased at that –

unlike Frisky the renamed cat.

The body on the landing

You left the dead body on the landing;

do you have no understanding

of how these criminal cases go?

The detective examined the body,

the coroner told him the cause:

‘A sharp bite to the back of the neck,

whilst held between two paws.’

And in your defence…?

Never set sail.

Never set sail

Never set sail

with a cat with no tale;

he won’t keep you amused on the voyage…

The Lady Who Loved Cats.

Subtitle: Eaten By Cats

All through her life

She was eaten by cats;

‘Feed them,

Water them

(so they grow)’

She gave them names

So she’d know

which was which;

Toys she supplied

And scratching posts, too;

She had more big cats

Than the tiniest zoo.

And as she grew older

The cats came and went

She replaced a lost ‘kitty’

With a ‘kitty’ from Kent

(Oh, yes, she adopted them, too!)

And the numbers increased

There were dozens and more;

She kept fifty in the house

And had another fifty at the door.

Then, one day, she died;

And the cats were not fed:

“Feed us, Feed us! Here and now!”

Which is what they were saying with their ‘Me-ow, meow!” It is said.

The cats did ask

The cats did beg

Until one hungry tabby

Sniffed hungrily at a leg…

Rosie is Our Cat.


Rosie is our cat

And a pretty cat at that

She likes to sit on a mat

And make like a bat;

Upon the door she knocks ‘rat-a-tat-tat!’

And she knows where she’s at;

She’s ever so small;

And you can’t say she’s fat;

She has no excess poundage,

She’s as lean a gnat;

I don’t think we’ve seen her wearing a hat;

Or dressed to the nines

In some cast off tat.
In fact, Rosie has perfect pitch

And sings in B flat;

I could say much more

But, I’ll leave it at that.