Cats Poem by Keith Gwilliams

Cats, cats, cats, cats. Black cats, white cats
Brindled and grey cats. Cats of all shapes and sizes.
Some are just moggies, some win prizes.

We have a cat, in fact we have two
And whatever we say, they’ll ignore it, or claw it, or paw it;
Pat it, or bat it, scratch it, or catch it;
Lick it, or pick it, or chew it;
But they simply won’t do it.
Not what we say.
When a dog has its day,
Cats have their own way, every day.

Cats.. I can take them or leave them,
Stroke them or heave them
Out for a run in the garden.
Then, when they return, they jump on my lap
Thinking, what a nice chap,
Stick their claws through my vest
And into my chest
And purr.. while I’m quietly screaming.

They stretch on the rug and steadily preen
With a lick and a tug till they’ve got themselves clean
Bright and shining.
Mine clean each other, they are allowed to do that,
Cause they are sister and brother, and that’s ok
If you are a cat.