Note by the author: I am not sure what got into me about wanting to write a cat poem (as you can see I selected a great name for the poem); I just did it, out of the blue. I must have been triggered somehow because I do not care for cats. To be honest, if God gave me a choice between cats and cockroaches, I’d take the latter: and I’m sure I might have been a happier person. I do think cats are good for something, not sure what, perhaps for rats. It all stems back to when I was a boy scout, or at least that is what a psychologist would say: flashbacks, the white rabbit syndrome. When I was out camping at St. Croix camp grounds (Minnesota), back when I was thirteen, or so, I was in a big tent with kids, and guess who wakes me up? Yup, a cat purring down my mouth paws on my throat, and it scares the crap out of me when I opened my eyes and saw those marble eyes staring into mine.

Now that I think of it, perhaps this poem is long overdue. In any case, I dedicate it to all the cat lovers out there, to include my wife:

The Cat Poem

Cats, I never did care for them; My wife had—before we wed—

Fifteen of them—. They’re too lordly in the household

For me—: Too aristocrat-able to please. They are everything but what they

Seem, and They seem surreal; and endlessly

Dreaming—or perhaps it’s scheming (I can’t tell the difference)—but, One thing I do know: they have mystic

Marble-eye-balls—: gives me the chill.

#1065 1/6/06

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

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