Guest stars: A Poem to Jerry (includes audio)

Hello everyone,

Today we have a special poem from Ali to Jerry the tuxedo cat.

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“Jerry a tuxedo cat, is always dressed for dinner. The elder-statesmen of our home he is particularly fond of turkey, cheese, tuna and the poetry of T.S Eliot. He suffered a devastating loss of his friend Ed 5 years ago, but recovered when he met Hank, who is now his best friend. Jerry and I found each other on a hot July day 13 years ago and he has slept between my knees ever since.”

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Audio version of the poem:

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse

A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us dine then, you and I,
As the dinner hour is nigh

How I wish I could dine with you at table;
Let us dine, you and I on certain cheesy fish treats,
The meat and milk of which I  eats
Of feckless bites on ankles, till they swell
Don’t you know I only mean you well?
Treats I need, I must lament
I fastidiously  repent
the day I vomitted upon your pillowcase…
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let it go and give me a kitty biscuit.

In and out of the room I come, I go, I come and go
I go and come, I come and go.

And when you rub my back I won’t complain,
At least until I’ve had enough and then I cannot refrain,
I hiss, my claws I fling and still you are surprised,
Lingering upon the spot that caused me pain,
Let it be, go get my treat or at least, scratch behind my ears

I slipped by your face, I made a sudden leap,
And seeing that there was a soft comfy couch,
I curled once about my mouse, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For you to go and get me a fishy treat,
Rubbing my nose upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
For you to clean the prints I made with my feet;
There will be time for me to lie in wait,
And jump and bite the sheets
That lift and drop as you make the bed a treat;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred provisions,
And for a hundred visits to and from the kitchens,
Before the taking of a roast and perhaps some brie.

In and out of the room I come, I go, I come and go
I go and come, I come and go.

And indeed that cheese will be mine
I wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to sit on this chair or under this chair,
With a glossy sheen to my hair—
[They will say: “How lovely he has been!”]
My tuxedo coat, my whiskers founting above my perfect chin,
My nose so black so modest, and accented by a simple grin—
[They will say: “Pussy cat Pussy cat, where have you been!”]
Do I care?
Must I be force to converse ?
with this scratchy voice of mine
I have made a split decision and I require more provisions but first I’ll climb onto this purse.

For I have to go out already, I have to go outside—
Have to hunt birds evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have wished all my life for finches and for loons;
I know their chirps they are crying for a dying fall
And I am beneath the chair in a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known your tricks already, you are not so sly—
The eyes that fix me  in a formulated gaze,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on the table,
When I am pinned and wiggling on the carpet,
Then that’s when you begin
To slip out of the door, out of my way?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the sounds already, known them all—
Sounds of opened cans and sounds of cookware
[Behold all cans do not tuna bear]
Against your legs I press
and press and press?
I am waiting on the table, about to bawl.
And should I then presume?
That it’s time to dig in?

. . . . .

Shall I say, I have waited at dusk for my treats
And watched as salad, fruit and cheese
were eaten in shirt-sleeves, regardless of my pleas? …

May I bare my sharpened claws
On the arm of your new sofa, please?

. . . . .

In the afternoon, on the dining room table, I sleep so peacefully!
Dreaming of chicken fingers,
Asleep… I stretch, my fur lingers,
Stretched on the table, here beside your plate.
Should I, before you finish,
Have the strength to force that last bite in?
But though I have licked the toast, stuck my paw in the salad,
I have seen food brought in, brought in upon a platter,
I cannot resist, a mewl a sniff, a bite at the ankle—and here’s no great matter;
It is time now to lick the bottom of my tail,
And then my feet, my whiskers and without fail
my butthole, here upon the table.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After I chased the other cat,
Among the porcelain, spilling the cups of tea,
It would have been worthwhile,
To have bitten her hard with revile,
To have her squeezed behind the door, in a ball
To roll around then, on the floor with my mouse,
To say: “I am Jerry, King of the HOUSE!,
I will chase you all, I will fight you all”—
It will be me settling a pillow by my mamas head,
Must I say: “The bed is not meant for all.
It is for me! That’s all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the fights and the yawns and the begged for treats,
After the hiding, after the snoring, chasing skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to stay mean!
When the magic lantern throws the lasers in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worthwhile
If one, whilst kneading a pillow could see it on the wall,
And turning toward the window, should pounce
on the red light and then fall?

No! I am a toy, nor was meant to be;
I am gentlemen, one that will do
to sit on the couch, to  start a scene or two,
to keep the other cats in their places, the fools,
Essential, glad to be of use,
Handsome, Jellicle, and meticulous;
Full of high thoughts, not a bit obtuse;
And never ever ridiculous—

I grow old… I grow old…
I shall take my time upon the stairs, to sit on laundry waiting for a fold.

Shall I leave the couch or hide behind? Do I dare let them reach?
behind me for the remote?
I have heard them talking about giving me treats

I think they will definitely feed me.

I see him walking towards the kitchen
She is combing the black white hair on my back
when he returns we’ll have a snack.

We have lingered on the couch.
watching nature shows with birds and it is time
to quiet human voices, and retire, to the bed where I will dream of snacks, and treats, of cheeses and of meats.

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Thanks for reading my story @KatzenworldBlog! To find more of Jerry and his friend Farrah visit them on FB by clicking here.

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21 thoughts on “Guest stars: A Poem to Jerry (includes audio)

  1. This is a lovely ode! I did laugh at these lines:

    “It is time now to lick the bottom of my tail,
    And then my feet, my whiskers and without fail
    my butthole, here upon the table.”

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