Sonnet for my tortoiseshell cat

You sit, your ears on edge and whiskers taut

replete with chunks and biscuits from your bowl,

and lick the gravy that your paws have brought

onto my sofa, out of my control.

Paws done, you settle there upon your side,

and groom your tummy fur until it’s clean,

there’s fluff and bits of bug upon your fur,

I’ll have to put the slip in the machine.

You care not for my woes, or my travails,

why I must labour so, to clean the house,

instead, you sit triumphant as a queen,

and plot to disembowel a captive mouse.

Because you are the cat, you rule extant

I’m not the mistress, just the penitent.

 

Inspired by the grooming habits of my cat, Bramble – if you would like to read some more of my cat poems, please see ‘Lap-sphinx’ and ‘Lost cat’ in previous posts!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s