Ode to Kitty – a #poem


I need a little break from Brené at the moment. That post earlier today kicked my ass.

My cat is a wanderer. Of fifty feet. My neighbors have an unfortunate habit of letting him “sneak in” because he’s just so adorable.

He’s our cat. He was there a week this time. She swears they’re not feeding him and I believe her, but someone is because the feeling I get from the face he gives me when I now >plink! plink! plink!< the kibble into his little metal bowl is:

"no you didn't."  (c) farm4.staticflickr.com

“no you didn’t.” he says when the kibble drops. “o yes i did,” i say as i drop one more.
(c) farm4.staticflickr.com

So he leaves. And goes straight to my neighbor’s front door. They are lovely people. They used to have a cat and dog, so they’re pet friendly. They also swear they’re not feeding him. But a week goes by and he ain’t eatin’ here (see pic above to assure you), and he looks:

like this.

like this.

I’m sorry, that wasn’t any good…



Wait, this… 



Gak! no, this…

there. there's the money shot.

yikes. where’s the football? there’s the money shot. just really bad lighting. but imagine it’s good lighting.

I don’t blame him. His sister is mean to him; she growls and hisses at him. He’s very mellow, she’s a bit uptight.

Murphy tries to mount him or put him in his mouth from time to time, “I dunno, Ma, is he a sex toy or a food?” he queries.

The kids are loud here and when he goes over there, it’s like a spa. Candles are glowing, the hum of the fridge is the only sound, maybe a ticking clock in the distant background…

Shit, maybe I should go over there. So instead of going to yoga today, I wrote a poem.

So I present unto you this (and I can’t stop thinking in verse now):


ode to kitty:

dear prodigal kitty with your eyes green and pretty
you’d been missing a week, it was hard.

upon a neighbor’s couch microfiber
you fancied yourself suburban tiger
while the boy who adores
fear’d you’d gone very far.

it’s not your fault that you wandered
it’s the rules you had squandered
when the call of wet food and low noise cast their allure

your sister did not miss you,
she threw no mauls nor she hiss’d you
but we blame our daft neighbors, we endure

for it was their move to keep you
safe and warm and “not feed” you
which we believed not a beat when t’was uttered

what did you dine on?
while your boys they did pine on
was your kibble so moist and well buttered?

. . .

“i don’t want a new pet; can do without hassle”
she said as Dad swept you away, flying dutch
“then why days if no hassle, yet over here! in your castle?”
he asked with your big bod in his clutch

she urged protestations
continued on manifestations
of neither her blame
her account, nor respons’bil’ity

his response: “ ’tis the rules of the ‘hood
neither bad, neither good
t’which we adhere and that keep civility:

do not take in other’s kitties
not on farms, burgs or cities
when their home is scant paw-steps away”

of it he regaled as he walked in our door,
“t’was nothing real, it all, just a bore
she cried ’twas not my touch! do not blame me for such!’
gah! ears tire for she protested too much.”

stay home here big gray kitty
do not go in that door
which she widely holds open and claims you sneak in
we all know far better,
it’s their food that is wetter
which you eat far too much to be thin.

he loves it when we hold him. see? he just sinks right in.

he loves it when we hold him. see? he just sinks right in.

thank you.

About Grass Oil by Molly Field

follow me on twitter @mollyfieldtweet. i'm working on a memoir and i've written two books thus unpublished because i'm a scaredy cat. i hail from a Eugene O'Neill play and an Augusten Burroughs novel but i'm a married, sober straight mom. i write about parenting, mindfulness, irony, personal growth and other mysteries vividly with a bit of humor. "Grass Oil" comes from my son's description of dinner i made one night. the content of the blog is random, simple, funny and clever. stop by, it would be nice to get to know you. :)

10 responses »

  1. Perhaps your neighbors feed him tidbits of rib roast and pork loin with drizzles of drippings? Or share cheesecake with him? Not really “feeding” him, just sharing tidbits. He is a rogue, manly and solid with come hither eyes, it is his duty to roam to seduce the neighbors and gain their yummy treats. You must let him do what he does or he may leave you behind and not return! Is his name Lothario?

  2. he goes by “Gandalf.” 😉

    i agree, he needs to do what he pleases, but they mustn’t feed him or treat him… he’s really quite heavy now. i’m happy to give them some of our food to please him, but nothing different. am i too attached or are they?

  3. He’s your cat and you should get to feed him only what you want, but it might not be the neighbor, it might be very rare bunnies, mice, birds, etc. Cats self feed if they want to; a muzzle? I guess you could make him an inside cat but then you’d have to put up with his resentment and that can lead to nasty things.

    • i figure i’ll feed him what we always do; the neighbors have agreed to not let him in anymore and to call us if he’s out at night. every birthday, thanksgiving, christmas and easter i give them a half can each of the wet stuff. i don’t want his “nasty things” — i just want him to cut the crap. 😉 i know, he’s a cat. this whole thing is funny. he’s been quite nice today. he’s really a sweetie.

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