Overheard at the Kitty Powder Room

Dig dig dig, are we on the way to China?
Dig dig dig, are we going to Siam?
Dig dig dig, dig a hole to Carolina?
Dig dig dig, no, I'm happy where I am.

Dig dig dig, it reminds me of the ocean,
Dig dig dig, oh, the castles I could show
Dig dig dig, in the sand, but such commotion
Dig dig dig, I don't think you want to know.

Dig dig dig, you're a most amazing kitty,
Dig dig dig, you can dig a hole so deep!
Dig dig dig, yes, you're clever as you're pretty.
Dig dig dig, I can do it in my sleep.

Dig dig dig, if my habits are so darling
Dig dig dig, you must stand around to see,
Dig dig dig, be aware if you hear snarling
Dig dig dig, that it might have come from me.

But Sweetheart, you're adorable,
If my tact is a bit deplorable,
It only shows my admiration.
I think you're just divine!

Be grateful for my agilities
In - may I point out - facilities
Which are private, highly personal,
And most important, mine!

Dig dig dig, If you find me so amusing,
Dig dig dig, I must warn you far ahead
Dig dig dig, there are places, not my choosing,
Dig dig dig, where I might have gone instead.

Dig dig dig, so you think I'm entertaining?
Dig dig dig, so you think I'm here to play?
Dig dig dig, now I ask you! Where's your training?
Dig dig dig, Bastet's Whiskers! Go away!

~^..^~

For Mewsette in October

Here am I, my love, all whole with you.
You, the larger portion of my heart,
I the one to share my soul with you -
Two of us who couldn't bear to part.

If you leave me broken and bereft,
You will take my heart and look upon
My soul as but an empty thing that's left,
For how could I be here if you were gone?

If I think about it -
Left behind and without you -
I must truly doubt it.
Wouldn't I be gone then too?

Never leave me, love, or if you must,
Your spirit and your essense let me keep,
That I may struggle on in simple trust
You'll come to me again, my love, in sleep.

I Never Cried For You, Blynky

for Blynken Panda ben Sacha, 1986-1994

A fine boy, a neat boy,
a boy of beauty his father endowed;
A soft boy, a sweet boy,
a boy to make his mother proud;
A poor boy, a needy boy,
a boy I see in pictures today:
That young boy, that strong boy,
The memories take my breath away.

When Blynky ran away on the mountain,
He ran from life that had gone all bad.
Moved from his home, he lost his sister
For two long weeks, and how he missed her,
And lost the only brother he had.

When Blynky ran, his sister was found-
He hardly knew her in his deep pain.
Lonely and scared, he'd been through so much,
Denied by my grief the loving touch
That might have soothed what it couldn't explain.

When Blynky ran away on the mountain,
In my days of shock, I somehow knew
I failed you, Blynky - you needed me.
I lost you, Blynky - and now I see
Through all the years I'd forgotten you.

I didn't cry for you on the mountain,
I barely kept my sanity then.
And what a great loss, my dearest boy,
For you of life - for me of joy -
I cry for you now, and I'll cry again.

The Son of a Son of Siam

(for Papa-san Sacha ben Patches, 1983-1986)

Born to a plain little calico cat
deep in the Ozark hills,
Who knows what wanderer found her, that
He was no match to the other three,
The son of a son of Siam was he.

In the autumn sunshine of song-filled days
and cool of the softest nights,
He grew and changed in so many ways.
He lost his mother and then loved me,
The son of a son of Siam was he.

Moved to a hot and desolate land
far from his woods and hills,
With yearnings he could not understand,
He couldn't be bound, for he must be free,
The son of a son of Siam was he.

With eyes so gentle and blue as the sky,
he walked in the noisy nights,
As disappointed and lost as I -
Oh God, if he could have made me see,
My love, my beauty, my prince was he,
The son of a son of Siam.

BB When Young

BB when young would oft go out
And scamper up in the highest trees.
She'd holler sort of a kitty-shout
And dangle frantically in the breeze.

BB when young would want a drink,
And sneak in the kitchen all unseen,
And there was the butter dish on the sink.
In sixty seconds she'd licked it clean.

BB when young was mesmerized
By the Christmas tree with sparkles galore.
She jumped straight in, and was so surprised
When she and the tree crashed to the floor.

BB when young chewed rubber bands
And lost the letters of Scrabble games
And scattered puzzles, and scratched my hands,
And singed her whiskers on candle flames.

BB when young tore holes all round
And sailed through the screen doors out or in,
The window screens she knocked to the ground,
And never did tell me where she'd been.

BB when young stole turkey legs
And ate tamales from paper plates,
Drank the cream pitcher, broke fresh eggs,
And disappeared for romantic dates.

BB when young gave birth to kits,
As every Spring she was round and fat,
And they were adopted while she had fits,
Till a trip to the vet took care of that.

BB when young caught mice and moles
And left the remains on steps at night,
And mauled the flowers and dug deep holes,
And nearly died from a spider bite.

BB when young tangled up my thread,
Threw up in my shoe, and knocked down fans,
Tore up the spring cover under the bed,
And opened cupboards to play in the pans.

BB when young snuck out in the ice
And froze her mouth to a water pot.
She got unstuck, but it wasn't nice.
She chewed up table legs quite a lot.

BB when young hated telephones
And sent them crashing down from the wall,
And begged and pleaded for ice cream cones,
And never, never came when I'd call.

When BB was young, the things I've told
Took place up to eighteen years ago.
Every word is true. And BB got old.
She's so quiet now. And I love her so.

Her Grace

~a poem for Mewsette in August~

How she used to glide in grace,
Her fluffy tail held high in place,
Her movements so serene in her affection.
Every dainty stretch and step
Both elegant and full of pep,
She walked in beauty then, she was perfection.

She'd slide from off the sofa so,
A pool of liquid calico,
And float across the carpet in a blur,
Then gather muscles meant to fly
And effortlessly jump so high,
No top of anything too high for her.

The years have stolen youth from her,
The shining glory of her fur
Diminished, as the color in her eyes,
And when she trips on one small stair,
It hurts her feelings if you're there-
She glances up in horrified surprise.

For one with grace so amply blessed,
She hates a movement not her best,
And growing old is just the smaller part.
But grace is not a thing that dies-
She's more than perfect in my eyes.
She walks in beauty in my very heart.

8-20-01

A Special Ode to Phelicity,
A Luxurious Cat

She settles down in her silvery gown,
All fluffy and plush and bright,
Draped on the arm of the sofa,
With whiskers so long and white,

She'll stretch and sigh and bat a blue eye,
And dangle a tufted toe,
Arrange her tail in an elegant sweep,
Crossing gloves as white as snow.

So humans say, when looking her way,
The thing they have all agreed:
She surely is a luxurious cat,
A luxurious cat indeed!

And if she hears, she tilts little ears
And contentedly sighs a sigh,
"How wise of them to notice what
A luxurious cat am I."