‘n Boots — a poem


hep cat stray cat cool cat spray cat
a feline felon flinging four-letter foulness

a tip of the hat gads I’m hatless drat
my name? W(ill) C(atch) Field(mice)s

I strut I hiss I spit and sputter
to come out alive pull fur with another

and now adieu
I go seeking a sunny window

…and perhaps a little nip before a nap


* * *


I blame The Sunday Muse.


22 thoughts on “‘n Boots — a poem

    • “Gad, what fools these mousies be!” Chain link lyrics set to the tune of chomping on a turkey drumstick. In lieu of a codpiece… a piece of Cod.

      It bears considering. But not for too long.


    • I grew up around cats. My first pet/mentor was a seal point Siamese. A really with it member of the nation… until a friend of mine spent the summer using my bedroom while I was away doing a stint as a wilderness guide… after he and the cat smoked a couple bags together he wasn’t much for giving advice. The cat would just stare into the middle space for a time, shrug and purr, “Whatever.”

      I’m glad you enjoyed it!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Ah, the life of a Tom cat. You have educated me some, all my cats have been females. Our junior high granddaughter has just adopted a four year old Tom named “Dutch”. I won’t pass your write on to her as it may make her worry about Dutch.


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