The Cat Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Cat
The cat enters the household soon or late
Warmth, food and comfort is our homing bait
She often brings a furtive trophy back
A dead-weight heavy mouse dragged like a pack

She'll treat the kitchen like a climbing gym
She'll lick the frying pan, or she'll break into
Anything her flexing claws can tear
She'll rip the wallpaper beneath the stair

But in our hearts this feline has full reign
We grudge her nothing, rip, or spill or stain
We stroke her velvet ears, her sides, her throat
She purrs and ripples, like a pleasure boat