Conference misery::feline

    
    Nothing I would rather see
    No place I would rather be
    Than with my kitten on my knee
    And a steaming cup of tea
    
    Kitten curled up in a ball
    On the couch against the wall
    With the tea cup full and tall
    That's what I like best of all
    
    Music playing soft and sweet
    Fuzzy slippers on my feet
    Cat on lap, tea for heat
    And maybe some sweet cake to eat
    
    Kitten purring fast and long
    Teakettle whistling its song
    I know that I can't go wrong 
    With tea & kitten, where I belong.
    
    (10/9/89)

Here's a cute Christmas poem written by Jay C. Vernon of N210Y Cattery.  It was 
copied from the CFA Almanac December issue.

			The Night After Christmas

'Twas the night after Christmas.  The time to reply the events of that most 
hectic day. The stockings once hung by the chimney with care, were chewed on,
drooled on, and torn past repair.

No one was nestled all snug in their bed; there was spilled milk and Friskies
to clean up instead.

And me in my kerchief and Dad in his cap, wished we'd both settled down for a 
much needed nap.

When somewhere downstairs there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chores 
to see what was the matter.

Away down the steps I flew in a flash, just as I heard one more thunderous 
crash.  

The moon wasn't out so I switched on the light, still hoping to see if every-
thing was alright.

When what for my wondering eyes was in store, but my family room curtains aheap
on the floor.

I rehung the drapes, but to end all this fun, I knew in a moment more work must
be done.

More rapid than eagles, I rushed all around, to make certain everything was 
still safe and sound.

Out tinsel, out ribbons, out bright colored bow, out garland, out ivy, out all 
mistletoe. From the poinsettia plant to the yarn in the hall, it's throw away,
throw away, throw away all.

Next I turned my attention to the great Christmas tree, making sure it was 
totally temptation free.

I moved ornaments up more than three feet or so, and no strand of lights was 
left dangling low.

When then in a twinkling I heard soft and sweet, the prancing and pawing of 
four little feet.

As I drew in my breath and was turning around, near the chimney this character 
came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and was covered all over 
with ashes and soot.

The ears stood straight up on this bold little elf, and he was obviously, 
overwhelmingly pleased with himself.

His eyes how they twinkled, he purred like a glutton, his eyes bright and shiny,
his nose like a button.

His thick little tail was drawn up like a bow, and those whiskers of his looked
like yesterday's snow.

I had not a doubt that this bundle of gray was the cause of the chaos at our 
house this day.

How proudly he strolled, with what grace and what style, as he tracked soot
and ashes all over the tile.

He was chubby and cute and out to impress, and I laughed when I saw him in spite
of the mess.

I scooped up the imp and patted his head, but he seemed to sense he had some-
thing to dread.

I spoke not a word but went straight for the sink, where I washed and dried him
as quick as a wink.

Then he darted away and stopped on a stair, and giving a nod he fell asleep
there.  He dreamt and he kneaded and purred all the while, as I regarded him 
with a half-frown, half-smile.

And you could hear me exclaim as I cleaned up our flat, "I'll remember the 
Christmas that we got our cat!"

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

At the last feline get together when Lisa was here, my mother mentioned
a poem that she and I wrote about our dear departed Michaela.  She died
just over a year ago.  She had had feline hepetitis, but was responding
to the treatment beautifully.  A blood clot from her liver got loose and
went to her lung.  


Micki of Mine
______________


When first I saw that Micki of mine
    A ball of golden fur so fine.
Among her sisters so snowy white,
    She stole my heart at first sight.
Some say I spoiled her too  much,
    With donuts, turkey, ice cream and such.
But the joy she gave to me each day,
    Was worth much more than words can say.
Each night when I would go to bed,
    Micki curled up along side my head.
What better friend could I have found,
    To share with me life's ups and downs.
For two short years, God let her be mine,
    And then he took that Micki of mine.
Her wee little cry, her soft little touch,
    Are just a few things that I miss so much.

Oh how I loved that Micki of mine.
Oh how I miss that micki of mine.

Although it was hard for me to see,
    I know she belonged to God, not me.


Dedicated to Suttonian's Michaela
	      3/18/88-11/18/91

By Holly Taylor and Trudy Livezey

    
                                 Cats
    
                 Cats, cats, what wonderful creatures!
                 How I love their feline features.
                 Large round eyes or almond shaped,
                 Tails so long they can be draped
                 Over the couch or over my shoulder,
                 So much pleasure to the beholder!
    
                 Legs that are long or short and sturdy,
                 Fur that is clean and NEVER dirty!
                 Bodies that twist and turn and spin,
                 Meows that create such a musical din!
                 Noses that are long or short and flat,
                 There's nothing quite like the wonderful cat!
    
    11-91
    by b.r.
    

                       A sunbeam 'cross a pillow is
                          A favorite spot to lie
                      She purrs with pure contentment
                         And stretches with a sigh

                     Her food bowl is a favorite thing
                        Each chip in its own place
                         She takes a sip of water
                        Then lightly wipes her face

                       She has a gray stuffed mousie
                          She loves to bat about
                   And little pink foam Ping-Pong balls
                         Are hers without a doubt

                    Her people are her prides and joys
                        She loves them most of all
                   They are warm laps and patting hands
                      And she'll come when they call

                    They'll stroke her satin-silky fur
                         From her nose to her tail
                   And scratch her chin to make her grin
                        And purr - they never fail

                      'Tho many things bring pleasure
                         No matter where you roam
                          Nothing is as happy as
                           A kitten in her home

       They shed your best sofa
        While sharpening their claws,
       Then reach out and touch you
        With soft, dainty paws.
    
       They turn up their noses
        At food in their dish,
       Then ask you politely
        For fresh tuna fish.
    
       They nibble your houseplants
        And shed on your clothes,
       Then give you a kiss
        With a cold, little nose.
    
       They're noisy alarm clocks
        If breakfast is late,
       But you can't help but love them,
        'Cause cats are just great!
       
    
    Written by Eva Allen on Cats Cats Cats calendar by Hallmark 1992
    Just had to share it because it is so true.
                                                                    

    
    
    	re: .-1  Are you sure it's 1992?  I have the 1992 Hallmark
    	Cats Cats Cats! calendar (the kitty on the front looks 
    	exactly like Sasha) and the poem in the beginning goes
    	like this:
    
    	Ball of fury, pile of fluff,
    	Savage tiger, lolling puff,
    	Beastly pirate, mad for spoil
    	Purry, furry, cozy coil,
    	Sultan of the windowsill,
    	Stranger to the human will.
    	Hypnotic sphinx, exotic minx,
    	Intractable, contrary jinx,
    	Condescender, great pretender,
    	Finicker, sometime befriender --
    	Prowler, scowler, alley tramp
    	Voluptuous, majestic vamp...
    	So many different roles to play --
    	Who knows which cat you'll be today?
    				
    					by Ellen Brenneman
    

    Wellll, it says it is 1992 and the dates and days seem to be the same
    as my desk calendar for 1992.  I don't know what Sasha looks like but
    my calendar has what looks like a flame point Siamese without the
    pointed looking face.  I suppose they made several different formats of
    the same type of calendar.
    
    Julie

    
    
    	Hmmm.....interesting.  That must be the case.  My Sasha
    	and the cover kitty =)  are Maine Coon and tabby.
    
    	JJ
    

    
    Slumbering on a giant rock
    Awakening to varied sounds
    He blinks a single tawny eye
    He lifts his head and looks around
    
    So gentle seeming in the sun
    This lovely creature bold and fierce
    Lying with majestic form
    With his gaze he seems to pierce
    
    His fur as white as driven snow
    His stripes as black as endless night
    His claws as sharp as daggers new
    He truly is an awesome sight
    
    He shakes his mighty head about
    He slowly turns around and then
    The large white tiger proud and strong
    Slowly falls to sleep again
    
    (8/9/91 - written to correspond with a friend's photograph of a white
    tiger.  Heck...tigers are cats, too!  ;^) )
    
    K.C.

For Snoopy:

One day, after many happy years, there came a time when my cat
Did not run to meet me at the door when I came home
And I realized that
      she wasn't playing with her toys
      or my comb (which was also a toy, of course)
      or eating even her most favorite things.

And then the doctor gave us the news.

And I asked Snoopy:
"How can I do this thing to my longest friend
      who would sunbathe with me
      listen to countless violin practices
      taste the blueberry muffins and then
      say, 'What? I'm NOT supposed to be on the counter?'
      who would catch me mice
      and chase my comb around the floor
      and wake me up on time every morning
      and meet me at the end of the day at the door?"

She looked at me, so tired just from breathing today
That she was lying on the table, panting, saying:
"Mom, you have to realize that I will never again
      see the summer sun
      care to hear the violin
      eat blueberry muffins
      jump high enough to reach the counter
      be able to catch a mouse
      bat your comb around on the floor
      wake up myself on time every morning
      or even make it down the hallway to the door;
How can you do anything else?"

I did the best I could for her
And now I am sorry
That my best was death.

And I come home, and no cat comes running to meet me at the door.

    Re: .11
    
    Your poem for Snoopy was very touching.  My cat died in July, shortly
    after her 14th birthday, and I still miss her terribly, so I know how
    you must be feeling.  My heart goes out to you.
    
    Chris and MacBlue too

    I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes - what a beautiful tribute
    to your beloved Snoopy.  Your poem will undoubtedly help others
    who have to go through the same painful, but necessary experience.
    
    Take heart in knowing that Snoopy is living pain-free in a much
    better place.
    
    Pam

    Here's another teary-eyed noter signing in.  That was so beautiful.
    It made me think of all the kitties my family has lost over the last
    few years.  I'm so sorry about Snoopy but I want to thank you for 
    sharing such a wonderful tribute with us.
    
    Jan

    More tears. My mascara is running all over my face. What a BEAUTIFUL
    note! I'm sure Snoopy is in kitty heaven watching over you and knows
    you did your best. Thanks for sharing that with us. Must go fix my 
    makeup before the customers start coming in.
   
    (first time I ever thanked anybody for making me cry first thing in the
    morning)!
    
    b.r.
    

    I got an Abbey Press catalog that has a lot of cute cat stuff in it.
    It has a plaque with a line of cartoon-y cats across the top of a brick
    wall with the following saying:
    
    Travel light in life...take only what you need:
    	a loving family, 	
    		good friends, 
    			someone to love, 
    				someone to love you... 
    					and a cat.
    
    
    I thought that was good advice.
    NancyS

    I have searched both this and V1 for a poem/prayer entitled
    Little Kitty Prayer, or Little Kitty Poem.  It's something you'd
    read after a kitty had died.
    
    Does anyone remember it, and if so, could you tell me where it
    is please?
    
    Thanks.
    
    deb

    I do remember it, with "small one" and so, but I dunno where it is in
    here. It's here, not in V1. I hope I've printed it out, so if noone
    knows where it is, I can send it or post it again. If I find it.
    
    Nat

    
    
    		The Little Cat Angel
    
    	The ghost of a little white kitten
    	Crying mournfully, early and late,
    	Distracted St. Peter, the watchman,
    	As he guarded the heavenly gate.

    	"Say, what do you mean," said his saintship,
    	"Coming here and behaving like that?"
    	"I want to se Nellie, my missus,"
    	Sobbed the wee little ghost of a cat.

    	"I know she's not happy without me,
    	Won't you open and let me go in?"
    	"Begone," gasped the horrified watchman,
    	"Why the very idea is a sin;

    	I open the gate to good angels,
    	Not to stray little beggars like you."
    	"All right," mewed the little white kitten,
    	"Though a cat I'm a good angel, too."

    	Amazed at so bold an assertion,
    	But aware that he must make no mistake,
    	In silence, St. Peter long pondered,
    	For his name and repute were at stake.

    	Then placing the cat in his bosom
    	With a "Whist now, and say all your prayers,"
    	He opened the heavenly portals
    	And ascended the bright golden stairs.

    	A little girl angel came flying,
    	"That's my kitty, St. Peter!" she cried.
    	And, seeing the joy of their meeting,
    	Peter let the cat angel abide.
    
    	This tale is the tale of a kitten
    	Dwelling now with the blessed above, 
    	It vanquished grim Death and High Heaven
    	For the name of the kitten was Love.
                                                 
    				Leontine Stanfield
    
     

    That's a wonderful poem! I don't remember reading that before. I'm
    sitting here with tears in my eyes, and my boss is looking at me funny!
    ;-) (he sits directly across from my office)
    
    I'm going to print that one out, and hang it up in the shelter!
    
     Thanks for posting that again. I don't know how I could have missed it
    the first time! DAH!
    
    Yonee

    How about Where to Bury a Cat?  That one always gets me crying.  It is
    also very nice.
    Karen

    Where to Bury a Cat is a beautiful poem also.  When my cat Shelley
    died, another noter sent me a short poem which I also love (thanks,
    Sandy M.)
    
    
                   ... Grieve not,
                       nor speak of me with tears,
                       but laugh and talk of me
                       as if I were beside you ...
                       I loved you so --
                       Twas heaven here with you!
                                                 

                               Ode to Spot
    
    Felis Catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
    An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature.
    Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
    Contribute to your natural defenses.
    
    I find myself intrigued by your sub-vocal oscillations,
    A singular development of cat communication
    That obviates your basic hedonistic predilections
    For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
    
    A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents,
    You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance
    And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion
    It oftens serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
    
    Oh Spot, the complex level of behavior you display
    Connotes a fairly well-developed cognitive array
    And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend
    I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
    
    
    Lt. Cmdr. Data

    STRAY CAT
    
    Oh, what unhappy twist of fate 
    Has brought you, homeless, to my gate
    The gate where once another stood
    To beg for shelter, warmth and food?
    For from that day I ceased to be
    The master of my destiny,
    While she, with purr and velvet paw
    Became, within my house, The Law.
    She scratched the furniture and shed
    And claimed the middle of my bed.
    She ruled in arrogance and pride
    And broke my heart the day she died.
    So if you really think, oh cat
    I'd willingly relive all that
    Because you come, forlorn and thin
    Well--don't just stand there--come on in!
    
    		-by Francis Witham