A Cat Named 'jake' Poem by Lynn W. Petty

The neighborhood has lost a special friend,
A rogue of undetermined pedigree.
But, he cared not. He never did pretend
That he was other than what one did see.
He answered to the name of 'Jake, ' if he
Would deign to answer one at all. A path
Of freedom, no accountability,
An easy personality, no wrath
Against his fate, he just took life 'as is.'
Now Jake was not a great 'sophisticat, '
His intellect was not a feline whiz,
Yet, he was not just called an alley cat.
He never heard the sound of silver spoon
Against a crystal glass. Nor did he place
His faith in feral instincts. Just as soon
As hunger struck, he turned about, to trace
His steps to his adopted household, who
Would feed him from an opened cat food can.
But, food was food to Jake, no ballyhoo
Of how the food was served; crystal, saucepan,
Dish or can. It mattered not. Quantity
Was his concern, not quality of dish.
Upon my first encounter, amity
Was not upon his mind. I say, churlish
Was more his disposition. Dispossessed
From former family by a Chinese lout,
A loose-skinned mutt named Mattie, had transgressed
The line of feline dignity. Forced out,
Jake wandered through the neighborhood, his fur
Disheveled, dull, its luster gone; his mien,
Revealed his inner state of mind. Rancor
Was the least of his ill will. He would preen
Himself, a foot or so, beyond the span
Of Mattie's leash, and take an attitude
Of disregard that she was there. His plan,
As anyone could see, revealed how shrewd
Jake was. His course of action was to drive
The dog to madness. Just outside her reach,
Jake calmly washed his face. The dog would strive
To break her leash by force, but Jake, with each
Neck-breaking lunge the dog would make, would inch
His way a little closer. By the time
Jake found it all a bore, he drew the cinch
Around the mind of Mattie, then the climb
To Shar-Pei lunacy was just a short
Self-gratifying ride. Dear Mattie threw
Herself upon the ground and with a snort
She howled like werewolves at full moon. Jake knew
What he had done. As Mattie wailed her long
And plaintive barking sounds, Jake walked away,
His tail held high, while Mattie sang her song.
Jake gave his own rendition, with a sway,
More like a pompous strut, of what a
Full, and round and lucent moon should be. I
Had wrongly judged Jake's intellect. A way
We humans have. We disaffirm, deny
That other creatures think. But, Jake had thought,
If not had reasoned, just exactly what
Reprisal he would measure out. He taught
Poor Mattie what becomes of a despot.

My next-door neighbor lost his cat, and Jake
Seemed able to perceive his loss. It's strange
What cats can sense. They apprehend, betake
A person's sorrow; mystical the change
In personality, they're less aloof.
Our neighbor Fred, and Jake our hero, were
Distraught. Poor Jake was homeless, had no roof
Above his head but, this did not deter
His ultimate intent. Fred's anxious heart
Was broken when his cat, his furry friend,
Had disappeared. Right from the very start
Jake played it very coy. He would pretend
To disregard a pat or touch and walk
Away, return again, then walk away.
A tease? not Jake, for he would never balk
At someone's food or love. To his dismay
He was replaced, so he displayed some care,
Of not-too-close-too-soon. With caution, Fred
Reached out and took Jake in his arms, aware
That Jake might bolt, but Fred was way ahead,
And knew that Jake just needed love. As soon
As Jake was lifted up, he fell into
A limp and flaccid state, almost a swoon,
For through Fred's hands, Jake felt his love, and knew
That he had found a home where he was loved.
It was a miracle how Jake began
To change, as he so long had been just shoved
Aside, ignored, a vagabond who ran
The streets. His fur began to take on sheen
From special foods and supplements that gave
Support to Jake's return to health. Between
A home, the food, the love, what more to crave?

Jake had it all. His life became a breeze.
He visited the neighbors, house to house,
Not asking for a handout but to please
His social penchant. Never did he grouse
Or grumble after his adoption, he
Just wanted to enjoy the company
Of others. There were times I found him three
Long blocks away from home. Amazingly,
He never strayed into the street, except
When Mattie was at leash, out in her yard.
Then, Jake would hide beneath the curb. He crept
Along unseen, as if a feline bard,
He popped right up in front of that poor dog.
Cat poetry in motion. Mattie howled,
Until she was reproved. It was prologue
To verse in action and in deed. Befouled
Of senses, Mattie acted strange, bizarre,
Not acting like herself, as if confused,
Sometimes befuddled, like she saw things far
Away. No longer was our Jake amused,
He seemed to have controlled our canine friend.

More social now, he sat upon our fence,
Or lie upon our chaise where he would spend
The early part of morning. One could sense
That he was unconcerned with anything
Canid. To him they all were just alike.
Each morning Jake met me with welcoming.
He had perceived, I thought, that he could psych
All dog-like creatures out, he lay around
Somewhat relaxed, and far too much at ease.
As garrulous a cat as could be found,
We talked, though I do not speak felinese,
Communication was achieved. A pat,
A belly rub, a scratch behind the ear,
With mutual respect, and love, we sat
Together in a bonding atmosphere.

Behind our house, a quarter mile or so,
Lies undisturbed, a thousand acres, left
In its most pristine state, a cameo
Of nature's unmolested beauty, cleft
By stream and bay that runs out to the sea.
A sanctuary for the paw and wing.
Within this refuge lives the coyote,
A relative of dogs, a wily thing,
That forages food at night. Its then he preys
Upon the unsuspecting animals
Within the fields or neighborhoods. His ways
Are sly and cunning, he has no rivals
For evils we believe he may have done.
But, how can we reproach him, he is just
Performing that to which his nature's prone?
A coyote is not something to trust,
Or can he be controlled. He hunts and kills
For his survival as all mammals do.
Domestication has deprived the skills
Of combat and survival cats once knew,

Unmindful to what roams within the raw
And dangerous environment of night.
There is no knowing what it was Jake saw,
But, there was evidence of one grand fight.
The fur of both combatants had been found.
We must presume that Jake had lost his life,
For he had not been heard or seen around
The house or neighborhood since that night's strife.

Surprising how his loss has caused a void
Within our hearts. We all have stories we
Could tell about his feats. We all enjoyed
His temperament, we certainly agree,
If Jake did die, he died most gallantly.