Tom Cat Poem by Nastasimir Franovic

Tom Cat
Our cat is a grey and white fellow, no joke.
Tiger stripes run down his back.
Belmondo is his name, but we call him Bebe.
He wears a white collar, a true gentleman.
When he walks, he's like a soldier on parade.
On his feet, he wears clean white slippers.
Once he licks his bowl clean, there he is on the sofa
He sits and combs his fur, pausing to look around.
He twists his long whiskers.
He lifts his eyelids as if to ask: 'What is it?
This is my house too! '
He stretches out, then spins a purring yarn, now on his back, now on his side.
Then he covers his head with his paws.
He tucks his legs under him, squinting all the while.
He won't let you pet him.
His ears twitch, and his tail thumps nervously.
As if to say: 'Stop it, I'm not a doll! '
In the morning, he's the first guest at the door.
Waiting calmly. Entering with confidence.
He meows a 'good morning' and dashes to his bowl under the table.
Only Bojan is allowed to pester him.
Olja is his very best friend.
He follows her closely like a dog, calling out to her every moment.
When he's done 'talking' with the household,
when his fur is combed and his ball of purrs is spun:
'I'm off, ' he says, 'that's enough.'
He's already at the door, pleading with a meow:
'Open up, open up.'
When he steps out, he huffs fiercely, hissing like a dragon.
Letting the other cats know
'Hear ye, hear ye! In this yard, I am the king! '