Miss Kitty’s Dinner Party (Humor)

Miss Kitty is our black and white
spiffy little Tuxedo-Taffy:
she nudges me and fudges me
and smirks at me till dawn;
pitter patter all the while
fiddling like an old whoot owl,
till I get up and finally trade
her scrumchy tidbits for her feline wiles.

Prim and proper she struts up
and down just like an army sergeant,
as if she owned the night
and day and me her attaché;
and like so many proud
aristocratic cats,
both fat and small,
she meows her jaunty ditties
and angry tirades all the while.

Her voice is so bizarre,
she frightens me at times,
pestering and rubbing me
and acting so very dissy-prissy: –
a Cleopatra of the Nile;
and when I sit too long
and do not preen her,
her eyes green gleam
will shoot red darts
in fickle measures
of her stubborn thoughts: –
she’ll whine at me
and suss at me
until I rub her little tum tum.

At times her table manners
are not always as they should be;
in fact at times
she seems so shy
and a little
itsy
bitsy
testy.

Her mischievous ways
are known to all, far and wide:
the tom’s all howl,
the ladies all frown
as she waddles
along the back alleys.

She’s full of that ancient whimsy:
she’ll sometimes come back at night
bring a little friend,
a funny little mouse:
tail gangling
from her puffy jowls,
a’working its long snout;
like a wounded helicopter going down,
tail a wangling to and fro, up and down.

And, she is so particular
not any little mouse will do, oh no –
her favorite is the brown field mouse
with its black whiskers and an eye tattoo:
a squirmy thing
all wiggly:
full of spits
and open seams;
rocky clumps
and dirtkin scraps askewed.

She always looks so smart
and snippety
when she’s done:
she’ll happily
deposit it
upon my evening
dinner plate,
then sit there
smiling,
as if to say, “How do you do,
see what I’ve done for you,
the least you can do for me
is get up from your seat
and follow me,
and let me show you
a thing or two I have need of:
come now my good man,
be up and moving
I have places to go,
things to do,
tom-cats to see,
but, before I go
I must feed my dainty self,
let you pander me,
and combed me,
and rub my little ears…
– what, you do not understand, I’ll show you!”

and, then she’ll suddenly reach out and swoop
that little mouse and in one gulp down him;
then she’ll walk away as if to say: “See, I told you!”

– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.

*Note: been wanting to write a series of nonsense poems in the tradition of such  19th Century masters as Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll. T.S. Eliot in his Old Possum Book of Practical Cats does nice job of it… I’d like someday to take Italo Calvino’s Italian Folktale and versify in a humorous format the ones that would favor children in humor and style. Then to find an artist to work with … the art would make such a book! So many projects in the works… 🙂

 

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