curiousity nonetheless

The first time

His neck was wrung

He’d woken the baby

With the song that he’d sung;

It didn’t matter

That he hadn’t meant to.

 

The second time he got in a tussle

With cats who had a bit too much muscle

Only they were really dogs;

It hadn’t mattered

That he didn’t know,

Meow meow, ow oh.

 

Then he’d revived,

Third time a charm which was swell

Until he was thrown into a dark well;

Drowned by a group of uncouth little boys

Who had not been taught

Living cats aren’t stuffed toys.

 

Life number four began with a roar,

A leap, a mane, he roamed, lived gloriously large

Too large for it drew the attention of men

Came at him with guns in a horde numbering ten

To play cat and mouse

Shot him in his house.

 

Fifth time saw his shadow slinking arched back sleek

Lord of the ladies in alleyways bleak

Then the S.P.C.A came, took him to the shelter:

Indignant cat! He was spayed! Claws pulled out, how he hissed and spat!

Within a week his savior

Put him down for misbehavior.

 

Six was quick, he starved being sick

From the cheap crappy slime

Bought in bags for less than a dime;

When he rejected the stuff

His master had shrugged

Walked away saying, “Tough”.

 

Seven was heaven, he’d imagined at first,

In his fancy new mansion,

He’d not suffered from thirst,

Where his dame draped in diamonds with rosy red lips

From crystalline goblets fed him slow milky sips

Until she dropped him on a whim for a poodle.

 

He was happy to have another chance to purr

In a houseful of children who always stayed near

Rubbed his head, shared their bed, scratched him under his chin

Then he crossed the street

Without looking

Got squished from out of his skin.

 

Having been through the line eight times out of nine

He thought he’d be clever, do nothing at all

This do nothing act set his back to the wall

Where he sat on a mat growing indolent, fat, till Goody came shouting,

“You lazy lout of a cat! When’s the last time you brought down a rat?!”

That was that.

 

When the cat’s out the bag, nine lives on his chart

Nine ways to adventure before he’s to part

It is this that I wonder gazing up at the stars

At Venus, Jupiter, Mercury, Mars:

Would he do things different if he had only one

One turn on the wheel, counting ten back to none?

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