The Cat's Whiskers
By jeand
- 1780 reads
O Dreaded cat, how long must I
Avoid your touch, avoid your eye.
This house is yours, and I'm a guest
I can't forbid you, and the rest
Seem to think your purr is great.
Your upturned tail, they really rate.
Their legs are waiting for your touch
E'en the thought for me is too much.
I don't know why I feel this way
With the likes of you, I will not play.
What irony it seems to me
Cat's whiskers is, a good thing to be.
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Comments
This is a great poem, Jean. I
This is a great poem, Jean. I can feel you recoiling and there is a real dislike for the same qualities you see appreciated by the others. Harder still, this situation because as a guest, you are trapped just waiting for the inevitable touch. I love cats for the reasons that some hate them. That slinky, boneless grace and spiritual presence, but if I were you, I'd tell people you are allergic to cats and they'll have to remove them from the room.
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Good poem Jean
Good poem Jean
Cats do seem to know when people don't like them and then will make a bee line for them.
My husband can't stand them, says they are covered in dried spit.
I suppose we are either dog or cat people and I prefer dogs.
Nice one Jean
Lindy
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I had the nastiest cat as a
I had the nastiest cat as a child. Like a guard dog. One eyed, too. How I miss that ball of fluff if only because she made guests perspire heavily. A neat piece with an unusual view.
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