The Penitant Cat On His Deathbed Poem by Morgan Michaels

The Penitant Cat On His Deathbed



I've been a pretty good pet
overall and done what's hoped of me
I've sat on a tuffet with frigging Miss Muffet
all the livelong day
and never run up a tree.

I've kept the tiger at bay
that paces in my heart
back and forth and back;
never sprayed or clawed the furniture
but mildly mewed and looked up;

I never bit the vet
or killed a bird
but ate the putrid food
that probably made me ill,
pretending to like it alot;

Caught an occasional rat
and, though my pupils swam
like goldfish in a bowl,
never wet the rug:
I simply can't do that.

Plenty of things I never did, ok?
like get involved with bad cats
that sit in the moonlight all night
and raise Cain. Nope, no, I did not that,
or swung drunk on a side of beef.

Nosiree-no, on the whole,
in general, in general, hmm...
I even had a family, um,
I'm not at all sad to say
and though I can't recall now

just when or how
my little bag of lives got all used up,
it did.
'C'est la vie'-or, 'c'est le mort, '
as a dog friend once said.

So I've gotten right
with the Big Kitty, and all,
and when I die, as soon I shall,
I'm sure to go straight up, you know,
to that big playground in the sky.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Patti Masterman 10 September 2012

I enjoyed this Soliloquy du Chat! I know if cats on their deathbeds could talk, this is what they'd say. Very colorful wording too.

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