A Special Kind of People


Cats are a special kind of people, as we who love 
them know, though it's not their fur, or their throbbing
purr, or the whiskers along side their nose. It's not 
their tail, though they talk with that, it's just
something, somehow about being a cat.

It's hard to explain, I don't think you can, just give
the love they crave, no need to understand, how, be they 
kitten or cat, they make our house a home. What a wonderful
gift, from the Lord above, when he sends a cat to our door.

By
     Grace Tolson

A Cat Is...........

It's morning in the world and everywhere cats are waking up 
and demanding attention, asking to be fed, let out, let in, 
cuddled, milk please, hear my purr, stroke my fur. And people
respond, feed them, caress them and rush to do their bidding,
honored, to be loved by a cat.

Some are aristocrats, exotic Persians or Siamese, some the 
more common tabbies or gingers, no matter which they are, 
they hold people between their paws, commanding and people 
obey, giving worship to this small creature of fur and paws,
grateful to be loved by a cat.

Independent, they often walk alone yet knowing people need 
them, lonely people, sad people, needing that special 
something only a cat can give. Cats give love yet remain 
apart, accept food and shelter but are always free. They 
accept our homage knowing it's a privilege to be loved by a
cat.

Cats are four paws and a tail, a sharp cry drifting on the
wind. Soft fur, hiding needle like claws, a purr that puts
Beethoven's music to shame. A perfect being, in form and 
soul, in truth a cat is love incarnate. It is a great joy 
to be lucky and be loved by a cat.

By
     Grace Tolson

No, He Said

Come snuggle-puss I said to him, come
cuddle up real tight.
No, he said, don't want to, I have to
go catch mice.

They won't run away I said to him,
catch them another time.
No, he said, can't do that, then there'll
be trees to climb.

Don't be cruel, I said to him, I like
to feel your fur.
No, he said, haven't time, but you can
listen while I purr.

Not good enough I said to him, I want 
to hold you tight.
No, he said, really can't stay, must go
watch the birds in flight.

Your dinner's here I said to him, guess
I'll put away the plate.
No, he said, I want it now, all those
other things can wait.

You're a naughty puss I said to him, you're 
just making use of me.
No, he said, that's your job, to make 
sure I get my tea.

By
     Grace Tolson

My Son The Cat

My son the cat, climbs trees, chases bees,
sometimes has fleas, don't mention that,
it offends him, my son the cat.

My son the cat, won't stay, wants to play,
night and day, he fits the part, a kitten 
at heart, my son the cat.

My son the cat, four paws, sharp claws,
sometimes he snores, if sleeping on 
his back, my son the cat.

By
     Grace Tolson

Cat Poems 1     Cat Poems 2     Cat Poems 3    Cat Poems 4

Short Stories