Oh, pussy cat, pussycat your meow so low,
lowing out of your yellow ball of fur, so low
I can hardly hear you. You don’t look at all
like our stone Geshe Ganesha in the hall,
elephant head, pudgy boy below,
petting the head of a mouse, the louse,
oh the fun our cat could have with a mouse.
Its fitting for such a big guy to be guru
not a goose, flipping in the night.
He’s a meter long from tail to noose,
inside safe from the fisher cat
who hides in the rose.
He seems to be a Coon cat but he has five toes,
hidden in his fuzzy big paws.
His litter box doesn’t dull the claws
he flexes as he purrs,
OK if you wear lederhosen,
hell if you’re in cotton pants,
and he’s on you nose to nosen
compresses your chest,
needs nuzzling; the pest.

Kent Bowker
Oct, 1 2006