Introduction
(a cat's inspired musings, and if the form of this poem is not particularly tight, it is this cat's first and probably last piece of poetry, and it is pretty good too]

Cat Thorts

Copyright; Bridh Hancock

I was born a cat, and that is
Why I love life's simple pleasures:
To lie in the sun with ablutions done;
All day and night exercise my right
To the softest, warmest, snuggest spot;
And to boogy on the roof when the moon is hot.

Born a human, it is your duty to
Keep a cat or two or thirty, to
Pamper, feed and protect us,
And occasionally disinfect us.

If human life with strife is riven,
It is because you shun the example given
By we you ignorantly criticise
Because we like to terrorise
Mice and such things smaller than us.
What's the fuss?, man; what's the fuss ! ?
The big ones we all leave to you;
You guys sure know what to do !

And you say you cannot bear
The way we tiger-likely scare
Away small, stupid, whimpish birds.
Birds !; they clutter up the sky;
Meals on wings just flying by;
And they never bury their turds !

When my nine lives have expired,
To a sunny garden bed
With flowers smiling o'er my head,
I would like to be retired.

Then shall come another cat
To sleep and dream; and that is that.

Copyright; Bridh Hancock