She's My Cat

I've lived in my house for many years, 
I know every squeaky board. 
I know the holes behind each picture, 
And each concealed extension cord. 

I can navigate from room to room, 
Without any hesitation. 
I feel no need to see my way, 
To reach my destination. 

In the middle of the night, 
When the lights are off or low. 
I move with safe assurance, 
To any place I want to go. 

But a problem lately has occurred, 
Which seems to be on-going, 
An obstacle and hindrance, 
Is causing major slowing. 

It started with my paper, 
I read the following ad. 
FREE TO GOOD HOME is what it said, 
So, I called, and I was "had." 

Who would have thought one lowly cat, 
Could change a person's life-style. 
But I have found I've been slowed down, 
In ways that seem quite juvenile. 

No matter where I want to go, 
She's right under my two feet. 
She's exactly where I want to be, 
And I feel I must compete. 

When we leave the starting gate, 
At precisely matching times. 
Her speed is not impeded by, 
The route she has in mind. 

She often takes detours, 
Her course may not go straight. 
But, son-of-a-gun, even though I run, 
She always beats me to the plate. 

At night, when I am tired, 
And it's time to go to bed. 
I can't turn down my covers, 
She's stretched out upon my spread. 

When I open up my outside door, 
And the temperature is low. 
Guess who parks upon that threshold, 
As she decides which way to go. 

"IN OR OUT," I'll loudly cry, 
But, alas, she's grown deaf. 
She sits and scratches both her ears, 
And I have no success. 

She behaves the same on window sills, 
She will not desert her station. 
When chilly winds are blowing in, 
I think of cat annihilation! 

She's been in every storage cupboard, 
At times, not opportune. 
She will lie upon the item sought, 
Then dare me to make her move. 

She's good at jumping into drawers, 
Once there, I cannot close them. 
She'll sit and blithely bathe her paws, 
While I am contemplating mayhem. 

She also has this penchant, 
For drinking water from the tap. 
So, my bathroom sink is out of bounds, 
I mean for me - not for the cat. 

The center of a doorway. 
Is her favorite resting spot., 
When I step over, to go through, 
Her little paw will take a swat. 

To transport groceries from my door, 
Unto my kitchen counter. 
Is the ultimate test of human skill, 
And oft provokes feline encounters. 

As she weaves between my unsure feet, 
I juggle grocery sacks. 
And cans of this and cans of that, 
Bombard, but miss the cat. 

She thinks those cans are toys for her, 
As she rolls them 'neath the couch. 
The word, KILL, then occurs to me, 
As I stoop to pull them out. 

The battle twixt my cat and me, 
Ends at night in my big chair. 
Just before I sit upon her, 
We do trade places there. 

I get down, and she gets up, 
My body forms a lap. 
She circles 'round and settles down, 
All's forgiven; she's my cat. 


© Virginia Ellis
( used with permission)
Ginny's Place

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