Daily Archives: January 15, 2015



As I awaken from my sleep
And off my armchair nimbly leap
I view myself as from above
And as I watch I’m filled with love.
With coat so lush and smooth it gleams
The product of a thousand dreams,
I’m sleek and elegant and quite superior,
Though I’m not suggesting that you’re inferior.

Of course being human’s a bit of a bind
So I try to remember I must be kind,
Though I don’t really want this cluttered life;
Your friends and companions, your children, your wife.
The clothes and the curtains and TV and more
Lights on the ceilings and chairs on the floor,
Strange things protruding from every wall.
A car in the drive and shoes in the hall.
Why would you think that I want them there,
All of these things that you leave everywhere?

And although I may sit on my car in the sun,
And prowling along my bookshelf is fun
While you can watch and admire my beauty,
I somehow feel that it may be my duty
To try and explain it from my point of view
That although I consider it kind of you
To attempt to give me all I desire,
There are very few things that I really require.

Those coats that you hang on the hooks in the hall
Are not any use to me at all.
The expensive computer you purchased for me
Has no purpose at all, from what I can see.
The beds are comfy, but so big and so many;
Although I’d be sad if I didn’t have any.
And I don’t believe that there’s any advantage
In pictures and trinkets and flowery plantage.

Your wife is all right, and perhaps she can stay,
But I often wish she’d keep out of my way
And stop picking me up and cuddling me
When I’m stalking a bird behind a tree,
And making me sit upon her lap
When I want to enjoy a peaceful nap.

The kids aren’t too bad, but get rid of the tot
Who gets in my way when I climb in my cot.
He screams and makes a terrible noise
Pulls my tail and hits me with his toys.
I can’t be grateful for every present
And that one is really quite unpleasant.

I’ll keep the bowls of delicious food,
And the kitty milk is extremely good.
Please make the room as warm as toast,
Leave a sofa to use as a scratching post,
Scatter some cushions across the floor,
Then chuck the rest out through the door.

But as for you, I think you’re ok.
You remember to feed me every day.
Though it’s true you are a bit of a pain
You entertain me now and again.
You’re not very bright but I have to admit
That sometimes I like you a little bit.

Don’t bother me now. I’ll let you know
When to return and then when to go.

Wait a moment! Just come back here!
I want you to stroke me behind my ear.

© Jane Paterson Basil