The mouse decided—
she had wanted a puppy
but got a little cat instead.
And in her house now
the experience we can well imagine
through our granddaughter's witness—
kitten claws he hooks in curtains
as he climbs then pulls them down—
the scratches on the hands and faces—
the black blur escaping though the door—
and all the kitten antics and cute disruption
of him who's either naps or motion.
With seven-year-old excitement
we get the latest updates when she visits
on him who's named so aptly "Rocket."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a cute poem Glen. I can visualise the cats and the grandparents. As Daniel says with the association of pets in our daily lives, we step down to the innocent child like playfulness of flurries and scurries. I have written a poem on my grandfather and his cats in the series 'Leaflets from my life. I wonder whether you have read it.
Thank you, Geeta, for your reading and comments. Enthusiasm is infectious—especially when the source is a grandchild we love. I don’t think I’ve read the poem you refer to. I’ll have to look it up. -Glen