Like God keeps His eye upon the sparrow,
I keep my eye upon the cat, For unlike the little sparrow, I'm
not sure just where she's at.
She knows the couch is out of bounds,
Yet invariably she goes there, She ignores the yellow warning
tape, I've wound around it, in despair.
I know she likes electric cords, She
pulls them from the wall, I've told her fifty million times, THAT'S
NOT ALLOWED AT ALL!
The wires are rewired now, To shriek
like fire sirens, If she so much as puts a paw Anywhere near their
She treats the kitchen counter, As
a fun place on which to glide, Though it's purposely lubricated
To make her slip and slide.
When I booby-trapped the cupboards,
I thought, "A-ha! I've stopped her now!" But fearlessly she enters,
And does not blow up, somehow.
Some cat owners keep baskets Of balls
of yarn upon the floor, My basket's filled with hand grenades,
Which she bats around 'til she gets bored.
Alternate pencils on my desktop, On
impact will explode, She always kicks the safe ones off, How ever
does she know?
When I open up the door a crack, She
manages to flee, It does no good to shut her in, I may as well
give her the key.
There's nothing wrong with cat food,
It's made special, just for cats, But she wants steak and baked
potato, GET DOWN! GET OFF MY TABLEMAT!
Just once I'd like to wear a dress,
Not accessorized with cat hair, But plastic bags do not protect,
How does she get inside there?
I firmly speak; my voice is loud,
Sometimes I fairly SHOUT! But, somehow her cat meows, Are loud
enough to drown me out.
I tell her time and time again, CUT
OUT THAT LOOKING CUTE! It would help so much when I yell at her,
If she looked more like a brute.
Her attention span is not too long,
Just long enough to drive me wild, I'm convinced she had some
lessons, From a clever, spoiled child.
I have a knife. I have a gun, I can
even wear disguise, But I am disarmed by her feline charm, When
I meet her big cat eyes.
I doubt God's little sparrows, Give
Him trouble quite like mine, But He can't hold them in His lap,
Or hug them any time.
Oh, I suppose it is a tradeoff, And
I do get some relief, Like when she's curled up on the couch Behind
the yellow tape, asleep.
I think to master cat control, Is
a fine, accomplished art, I've learned I can cat-proof my house,
But I can't cat-proof my heart.
(Ginny) Ellis ©2000
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