The Orphan Cat
I decided to get a cat and thought it would be nice to get one
from the cat shelter. An orphan I thought, a tiny kitten. When I
looked at all the kittens there I knew I'd have a hard time making
a choice. In the end I'd almost decided on a little scrap of black
and white when for the first time I noticed, sitting in a corner by
himself, a full grown cat of grey. Curious I asked for his story and
it was short and sad. It seems his people decided that they didn't
want a cat anymore, so they brought him to the cat shelter and dumped
him on the mat. "You know", the attendant said to me, "Ones like that
never find a home. People only want kittens no one wants a full grown
cat." As I stood there before the cage looking in at him, he lifted up
his head and looked at me with eyes that were pleading, please oh
please love me. As I gazed into those eyes I knew I'd found my cat.
When I told the attendant that I would take the grey cat home he
said, "I'm so glad, if he'd still been here tomorrow they were going
to put him down.
The Stray Cat's Purr
It was cold, freezing and he was wet. As he walked along the fence
he glanced over toward the houses he was passing. He could see cats
through the windows, curled up in front of fires. They looked so warm
and he was so cold. He was hungry too. It was hard to believe those
pampered house cats could eat all the food they were given. Surely
they could give him some of it, they'd never miss it.
He couldn't understand why they had homes and he didn't. He wasn't a
bad looking fellow with his dark and light grey stripes. There were a
few scars of course. One on his nose from the big tom two streets away
and a piece out of his ear from that fight with the old black tom. But
his green eyes were nice, they gleamed brightly in the light.
It was raining today, that made it worse. He wished it would stop it
made him feel so much colder. He still had his sniffles. He'd almost
recovered when that man put the hose on him. He'd caught a chill that
day he was sure. He coughed a lot.
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be a house cat. To
belong to someone who loved him. He didn't really know what that word
meant but it sounded special. There was a lady who brought food for
him to eat, she looked kind. He had smelt her hand once and she smelt
kind too. He didn't like the box she brought with her though. He saw
a cat go in there once and it slammed shut behind him. They wouldn't
catch him that way.
He was going down to wait for the lady now. He hadn't eaten in two
days, he'd been too sick to hunt. If he hid behind the trash cans he'd
be safe until she came. She'd be here soon. Here she was now. Walking
toward him and talking her silly baby talk. Anyone would think he was
a fool the way she cooed to him. "Here Kitty, Kitty. Here Kitty puss.
Come to Alice. Alice has nice din-dins for you. Here Kitty-puss, here
He crept out from behind the bin. She put the food down for him. She
no longer tried to tempt him to enter the box, she knew he was too
clever to be tricked. As he started to eat, she slowly reached out her
hand and touched him on the head. He jumped back, away from her hand.
She spoke softly to him and held out her hand for him to smell. Gently,
very gently she began to stroke him. It felt good.
But something was happening inside him, something that had never
happened before. Deep inside a rumbling started, shaky at first, it
grew in strength as she patted him. Oh, mm, ah, it felt good. He didn't
know what was happening but he liked it. He could feel it right
through his body, a tingle warming his blood. It spread through him
like the warmth from the sun. But this was better, this warmth was on
the inside. Louder and louder the rumbling grew and suddenly he
remember his mother long ago, telling him about how cats purred. He
knew that was what must be happening. He had never purred before, but
he liked it and he liked being patted. He liked it better than food.
The Orphan Cat's Home
A kitten left all alone, found her way to the Orphan Cat's Home. She
hoped some one kind would find her there and take her home to love.
"I'm so scared I'm shaking with fright, I want to go back to my Mother
even though she's gone. All these strange people keep pulling me about,
they look in my eyes, my nose, my mouth. They do the most embarrassing
things (you know I'm NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL), then they lock ME in a cell.
Just a lost little kitten with a number for a name, the number 101 my
only claim to fame. I cry myself to sleep each night cause I miss my
sisters and my brothers. Many lonely days have passed, people come and
stare at me but never take me out. Then one day a lady came and I
climbed all over her and rubbed my face on hers, "And I knew I'd
found my new Mom." Only they wouldn't let her take me home, too late
they said, come back tomorrow. Tomorrow came but not my new Mom but
another lady came and took me away and I cried for my new Mom. We went
to a house and waited, I wondered why until the door opened and there
she was my Mom. And she gave me this big long name Princess Blossom
Beatrix Alice Moon. Guess I can't get lost with a name like that.
Have you ever wonder what the cat thinks as he sits with his paws
folded under, eyes half closed, purring? Perhaps. Or with his tail
flashing. I wonder does he dream of mice, of catching the worlds most
ferocious mouse. Creeping softly on velvet paws, hush not a sound, closer
ever closer, down on his belly, hiding in the long grass. Now motionless
he waits, patiently he crouches, not stirring, tail still, only the
movement of his eyes shows that he lives. A sudden jump and he has won,
he has caught the monster, holding it tight in his teeth. But the battle
is not over yet, the monster will not give in, it wriggles and twists
as it tries to free itself from the jaws of the cat, but the cat holds
fast. But now he lets the mouse jump free then pounces and grabs it
again, he tosses the mouse into the air and catches it as it falls to
earth. He lets it go, paws slam it to the ground then he tosses it up
again, this game he plays till the mouse falls limp. Limp and dead. Is
this the dream? Or is the dream of a bird gliding low, then snap and
he holds it in his jaws. The bird struggles in its panic but iron jaws
hold on. Cat the mighty hunter, would be a fitting dream.
Maybe the dream is of world's far away, world's lost in time, world's
only the cat knows. World's where no human exists, world's where the
cat rules and all other animals bow down before him.. Does he walk
proudly through the jungle, eyes ever watchful, tail erect, head held
high. Sometimes climbing trees often times chasing butterflies.
Stopping to sit in a patch of sunlight, the sun warms his fur and he
delicately washes his paws. Still the eyes are watchful, as a fly flirts
with death and flits close a paw flashes out to bat the fly. He misses,
no matter twas only a game. Now he stretches out, letting the sun warm
more fur. His glossy fur, his coat of black shines beautiful in the sun.
Night comes and cat awakes. Now he will wander his world, hunting small
night creatures. Hush! There is a sound in the night, tiny feet scurry
past, cat pounces and the creature is caught.
Is this what the cat is dreaming? Or is he dreaming of what might
have been, of love perhaps, of a lady cat, of that which now can never
be? Does he remember the feelings from before, does he feel them still?
I ask him but he won't tell. He closes his eyes, puts his head on his paws
and sleeps away his day. For what else can a cat do, but be.
Cat Poems 3
Cat Poems 4