A CATS TALE

It is quite rare, I do declare To see a cat with little hair, But this is true of our dear mog, Who wags her tail just like a dog. She even barks and chases ball, And recently has grown quite tall. How is this true? I hear you say, And truth be told, I cannot say. She came to us one stormy night And gave us both a fearful fright. Black as coal, with glowing eyes, This cat gave us a huge surprise. She jumped down from the windowsill And like a bird, began to trill. We sat and listened, stayed quite still, As if were kept against our will. At last she sang one final note, Fore cleaning tail and sparse fur coat. Then cat yawned once and curled up tight Upon our bed, as if by right. When she awoke and said my name, Who could but say that Im to blame For keeping moggsy here to stay, Although my mind said, Go away! She eats all day, then wants to play When we prefer to end our day By lying quiet in our bed ~ But no, she wants to play instead. A tail has she to chase and twirl As if it were a midnight whirl Of dancing owls and witches dark Who screech and howl, and even bark. So now you know who this cat is ~ She knows our names, and even His! A devil in disguise is she, A little Beelzebub, you see. Enthralled are we and in His pay To keep this cat fed every day, To keep her well, out of harms way, And never, never have our say. Yet spite all this, we love her dear, Our hearts shes won with all her cheer. She laughs aloud with utmost glee; Im sure wed rather not be free. Inge Meldgaard 2011