Black and grey feathers were littered around
Broken glass, china-flakes embellished the ground
The toolbox lay open, it’s content all scattered
Old vases tipped over, gift-wrapping all tattered.
It looked like a battle had raged through the night
And its results were apparent in the morning light
I gazed in sheer horror that grew by the minute
At the chaos and destruction. Who could have done it?
Realisation flashed then, like a lightning bolt
Kitkat! The culprit! SHE was the one at fault!
For amidst assorted debris of this and of that
Lay the lifeless victim of the cheeky cat!
The poor little birdie was tousled and small
Quite stiff and all mussed up, but definitely whole.
Soft pawed and silent, the felon strolled in
“Mine!” averred smugly, eyes brazen green.
We confronted each other, the miscreant and I
Eyes locked. Mine: annoyed; hers: proud, satisfied.
“Where’s the honour? (they questioned) Where’s the fame?
The kudos? The applause? On my very first game?”
Let’s pause here, for a moment to truly see
Who the boss is, where score stands, between her and me.
Well, this house – it’s mine, and I am the mistress - for sure
But, when it comes to the sunroom, she can show me the door!
For she owns all it corners, its nooks, all its spaces
The shelves, old shoe boxes: are courses for races
There’s her snug and her cushion, her private litter tray
The bowl for her goodies, her scratch post… the array.
So here we were stood, both intractable and mulish
I, not pleased at the mess in the room; she confusedish.
The atmosphere was tense, a rant roared in my head
As I reined-in in vexation, leaving grim words unsaid.
Then, the wily missy made her move: apologetic - perhaps cajoling?
Sidling up silently, curling, soft around my legs, beguiling...
And that’s it.
I had melted - like ice cream on a warm tongue
All anger gone - in a blink,
Like the fizz out off a drink!
(And yes, I did spend a good part of that day tidying the sun room!)
