Always That Poem by Sue Oxley

Many cats have passed my way
Made cupboard love, and come to stay
And then moved on, or stretched a while,
Purring on the welcome mat,
But cats are always that, a cat.

I loved my Tigger, fancy bred
With painted stripes of cream and red
Orange eyed and Cheshire smiled
A great big creature warm and kind
Who sat on laps and loved mankind.

One day I watched him, fierce and wild,
No longer my great petted child,
As he swam across the upper field
Like liquid amber flowing strong
And caught, and killed, and moved along

To drag and eat his chosen game,
The field, his Serengetti plain,
The mouse, his zebra, hunted down.
His face dripped red as he munched away
Reflecting on his glorious day.

I watched and learned as he taught me, that
Whether African plains or fireside sat,
A cat is always that, a cat.