Purrsday Poetry: Cats in the Cradle

Hi everyone,

Today’s entry in Purrsday Poetry comes from N. P. Ryan:

More cat protest poetry. Though it’s futile, they never listen – no matter how many times I read it over and over to them in the hope some of it will get through.

But imagine if it did – what then? What if through the power of poetry I could get them to change some of their more unfavourable habits and going-ons?

I’d be in the highest demand, hailed poet laurecat!

Maybe even purret laurecat – the possibilities are not so much endless, but more like a big ball of string!

Having changed the bedding
Then moved onto dust
Heard a dreaded sound
The deep dark
Of cat retching

Knowing their love
For fresh linen
Rushed bedroom bound
Only to find
My work there
Wantonly defiled

But they who laugh
Last laughs longest
There was still
All the vacuuming
Waiting to be done

Copyright N. P. Ryan

It was quite an eventful day all round in the house of cat.

Mr B was the puker; but he’s old and not very well so really—despite the above verse—all was forgiven instantly.

Pierre on the other hand, took a big stinky poop in a litter box, then charged into the living room to deposit the last little blob in the middle of a just vacuumed rug. Grrr!

Before anyone had a chance to do anything about it, Yoda managed to come out of nowhere as Mr B walked past the poop, causing him to step in it, leading to there being a paw in need of cleaning too. Grrr!

Then, if all that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, Konnichiwa started to limp. All the way to the end of the hall, only to thankfully stop again just like that; little pigwit must have slept funny, but I wouldn’t put it past her to just want in on the action. Grrr!

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