Suitors

A Poem About A Feral Cat In My Yard

This morning I looked out upon the yard,

From up the second floor, from o’er the sink,

To see the cat that every morning slinks

And sleeps upon our glider, features hard,

~

But fat around the waist, gray striped with white;

“He’s eating somewhere,” to each o’er we say.

We guess he helps to keep the mice away,

And anyway the kids enjoy the sight.

~

We bought this place as-is, the boiler died

On Christmas Eve with grandma in the den;

We’ve painted rooms and painted them again,

“We’re keeping out the elements,” we sighed.

~

“Just bring it in,” our friends entreaty us;

It’s cold, its life is hard, this is a sign.

“Give him a name,” cajole they from online,

His manifestation cutely devious.

~

He craps in all the flower beds, in the grasses;

He digs the marigolds before they thrive.

We built a fence, yet easy he trespasses;

He’ll give the girls diseases, give us hives.

We bought a house, and with that comes its taxes;

The cost to keep the elements alive.


We started noticing this gray cat on our glider last summer. I thought it might be a pregnant mama nesting. But, no. Just a stray who found a comfy cushion in a sunbeam.

People tell me the poop is good for the flowers, but I don’t know. Of course I know about the horticultural benefits of other animals’ poops. But cat waste is so rancid. I can’t imagine it doing any living thing any good.

Anyway, you buy a house, sometimes you get cats outside.

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Thanks for reading.

This is Phil.