This is one of my favourite poems because the situation was so funny.
The tabby hunter
was most displeased
yesterday afternoon.
Someone locked the cat flap
and went out for quite a while.
When Mum came home with groceries
and little girls from school,
tabby meowed at her loud and long
as Mum stood and stared.
“She’s telling me off !” she said,
then put away the groceries
while ignoring tabby’s harangue.
Young Chloe checked the back door,
unlocked the offending flap.
“You shouldn’t bring your birds inside !”
she told the outraged tiger.
Now therein lies the problem
which tabby does not see.
She brings her birds inside
takes them round each room
as they scatter poo and bird feathers
until they die of shock.
Then she buries them
in the living room
for little girls to find.
Five year old sensibilities
are distressed by lifeless birds.
Mum doesn’t like cleaning up
bird feathers and poo.
While tabby keeps on hunting
she will always be locked out
when the family are not at home
to reject her hunting trophies.
She’ll be far from the sunny couch,
from beds covered with teddy bears,
and the luxurious faux fur throw
on Mum and Dad’s bed.
Previously posted July 2020.
This is my last post, as I explained Thursday night in Moving On.
lifecameos 